Pure Gold
by GetItWrite
Summary: “Who gave her the right to talk so condescendingly? It’s not as if she’s at the top of her class and wears some sort of badge indicating her superiority over the rest of the student population or anything silly like that.”
1. Chapter 1

My story is one that many normal teenage girls can attest to. Well, almost. If normal teenage girls can make things soar across their rooms with the flick of a wand, or recite whole books as easily as they can the alphabet, or wake up one morning to find that they are not who they believed they were for seventeen years of their lives. If that's what normal teenage girls go through, then, yes, I'm sure that they can relate to my experience.

To understand the full meaning of my tale, I feel obligated to inform you that I am the smartest witch in my class; no, I am the smartest _student_ in my class. I am also best friends with one of the most famous wizards of our time. My parents are Muggles, a characteristic that a certain arrogant, pompous ferret loves to torment me for. I don't really care as much as I let on to, because I beat that poor excuse for a human being on all of our exams, so the difference of our blood means nothing. If he wants to use it as a way to feel superior to me, that's fine, because we both know that I will always be better than him. My name is Hermione Granger, and this is my story.

Hermione:

The sun streamed through the open window, a solitary beam of light landing across my face. _Of all the places,_ I thought bitterly. Now that I was awake, the chances of falling back to sleep were slim to none. Grudgingly, I got up and yanked the curtains closed. To a stranger, it would seem I was not much of a morning person, and perhaps it was true.

I crossed my room to examine my reflection in the mirror, groaning in frustration as I did so. Now, you may be thinking that I was self-conscious and hated what I saw, but you are mistaken. I had changed over the summer, drastically at best. Curves that I never thought I had were suddenly blatantly obvious, in the best possible way, of course. My skin had darkened, and I suspected that spending the majority of my time in the park reading a book had contributed to this. But what was most shocking, was what was happening to my head. In just a few short days, my hair had darkened almost five shades, so that my golden brown hair was now nearing black. My frilly waves had tamed to become gorgeous ringlets that hung down to just above the small of my back. My eyes—oh, Merlin, my eyes—had gone from a boring shade of hazel to bright, honey-brown with golden specks. I've never been an expert on looks, but I did know that changing that much over such a short period of time was not normal. That's why I groaned, because there was definitely something wrong with me.

Yawning, I left my room and stumbled downstairs into my kitchen, and immediately noticed three empty coffee cups sitting on the table. That was odd; my parents don't usually drink coffee, as they are dentists. My mother only drinks it when she has her girlfriends over, and my father absolutely refuses the "teeth-rotting junk" under any circumstances. I shrugged it off, figuring my mother has company. There was a basket of muffins on the counter, no doubt from one of her friends, and I took one and warmed it with my wand. I sat down to eat it and reached for the newspaper that lay unread on the table. This was another oddity, as that was usually the first thing my dad did in the mornings.

I heard the front door open and my parents' voices lingering the hall. They sounded strained, almost arguing with each other. As they got nearer I tried to decipher the words from their conversation, but the wall between us made it too muffled to understand. The door to the kitchen swung open, and my dad entered, my mum walking in his wake and speaking rather urgently.

"I see no reason not to tell Hermione, she's going to find out sooner or later."

"Tell me what, Mum?" I eyed my mother curiously. Finally aware of my presence, my parents stopped talking and looked up at me. My mother gaped at me as if she was horrified by what she had said, before averting her gaze hastily and walking towards the sink. After minutes of silence from both of my parents I huffed loudly.

"Fine," I said, glaring at my dad. "If you two want to hide something from me, go ahead. Just don't expect me to talk to you."

I turned to walk back up the stairs, but then I finally heard my mother's voice tentatively sounding from the sink. I smirked to myself as I thought about how easy it was to manipulate my parents into caving so quickly. I could probably give that ferret a run for his money.

"Honey," Mum was saying. "Please, we promise that you will know soon enough. We can't talk about it now, but soon—very soon—we will."

Curiosity had gotten the best of me, but I didn't let it show. Instead I continued up the stairs and shut my door closed with a sharp snap. I dressed quickly, threw my hair into a pony tail, and rummaged through my drawers for a quill and a sheaf of parchment. Concentrating on my destination, I turned on the spot, appearing moments later under my favorite tree in the park two blocks from my house. This place gave me solace and comfort; no one ever came here so I could apparate in and out without fear of someone spotting me.

I spent the better part of an hour in the shade of the tree, replying to the letters that I had received yesterday from Harry, Ron, and Ginny. With a small pang of jealousy, I pictured them all at the Burrow, laughing and playing Quidditch or Exploding Snap without me. Then I laughed at myself, knowing how petty and childish that was, especially since I would be there with them in three days.

Pulling myself to my feet, I decided that I would walk home. It was a nice walk, and I was not yet ready to leave the comfort of the fresh, warm summer air. When I arrived at my house, I entered through the kitchen door and found my parents sitting at the table. I was surprised to see the steady flow of tears streaming down my mother's face and the anticipation in my father's. They looked up at me as I walked in, and my mum immediately stood up and embraced me tightly.

"Mum, what's going on?" I asked once she had released me.

"We have been talking," my father replied. "It's time we told you the truth."

Confused and curious, I merely nodded as my father gestured to the seat across from him. I sat down and he folded his hands on the table in an almost business-like manner. I looked from him to my mother, who was leaning against the sink with her arms folded across her chest and looking at me apologetically. It was she who spoke next.

"You see, Hermione, dear, your father and I—" she stopped, looking as though she had said something forbidden. She glanced at my dad for help.

"Well, that's just it," he said painfully. "I am not your father."

"What!" I shrieked. Of all the things that they could have said, this was the last thing I expected. I glared at my mother, not bothering to hide my anger. "You had an affair! How could you? How could you do that to him? To me?"

My words had an odd effect on my parents: they started laughing. Yes, they had the audacity to laugh at me, at my confusion and my hurt.

"Hermione," my father said once he had calmed down. "No one had an affair. We love each other, and nothing like that would ever happen."

This only served to heighten my confusion, and I looked at my mother questioningly.

"When we got married," she started, with a little more confidence than before. "I went to the doctor for a check up and to see if I was healthy enough to start having kids. He told me I that I was infertile, and that the only way I could be a mother was through adoption."

The impact of what she was saying hit me like a bullet to the chest and my mouth dropped to the floor.

"So, what you're saying is that I'm adopted?" I laughed, refusing to believe that it was true. They merely nodded, and I scoffed at them. "No. _No_. There is no way in hell that you are telling me the truth. I am a Granger. You guys are lying."

Of course, I understood that there would be no reason that someone would lie about something like this, but it was the only way that I could make sense of it all. You don't just tell someone that their entire life has been a lie. What did they expect from me? To immediately accept the fact that the two people who had cared for me and raised me were not my real parents?

"Hermione, we went from orphanage to orphanage trying to find a child," my father said. "But we couldn't settle on anyone. Then one day we were visited by a couple who had heard we were looking to adopt. They told us that they had a baby daughter and thought that we would be the perfect parents to her. They didn't tell us much except that it wasn't going to be permanent. We accepted, knowing how much it meant to them. We knew that the day we would have to let you go would be the hardest day of our lives."

I shook my head, aware of the tears welling in my eyes.

"No," I choked, my hoarse voice barely above a whisper, and ran up the stairs to the solitude of my room. Not even seconds later I heard a knock on the door.

"Hermione, please," came my mother's pleading voice. "Please let me in. You have to understand that we wanted to tell you, but we couldn't."

"Ha! Why couldn't you? Thought it would be better to lie to me my entire life?"

"No," she said, desperation in her voice. "Your birth parents requested that we didn't tell you until the day you would return to them."

I yanked the door open and glared at her incredulously.

"The day I would return to them?" I shouted. "What the _hell_ does that mean?"

The tears returned to my mother's face as she looked down at her feet.

"They came this morning," she said, a small sob escaping her lips. "They're coming to get you later tonight."

"What?" I screamed, any ounce of dignity I had gone as I threw my hands in the air. "You have _got_ to be kidding me. You tell me—completely out of the blue, I might add—that you aren't my mother and expect me to run off with people I have never met and call _them_ my family? You're insane. That's the only possible explanation I can think of."

I shook my head again and folded my arms across my chest. I know I was being childish and stubborn, but I refused to believe that not only was I not the daughter of who I thought to be my parents for seventeen years, but was being taken away by two complete strangers. It was utter insanity and preposterousness.

"I am not insane," my mother replied in an dangerously calm voice. "This is the truth. This is reality. You can sit in here and refuse to face it, or you can come to terms with it and accept that this is _your_ life, whether or not you want it."

With that she stalked out of my room and closed the door behind her. How dare she be angry with me? I'm the one who should be doing the stalking. I'm the one who should be upset. Who is she to think that she can spring something like this on me and expect me to _accept_ it? It's like being told that the sky is not really blue, that it never has been, and to look up and see that it's red. You'd think you were the butt of some very cruel joke, not the victim of reality.

I huffed and collapsed onto my bed, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I went. I sat back up and examined my reflection. So many damn changes! I cursed and threw myself out the door.

I found my mum back in the kitchen, her head buried in her hands.

"Ok, so assuming for a moment that it is in fact true that the two people who I thought to be my parents were lying to me my entire life," I said, causing her to look up at me in surprise. "And assuming that I am, in fact, adopted, who would my birth parents be and does my sudden change of appearance have anything to do with it?"

My mother merely smiled knowingly and stood up to wrap her arms around me.

"Your change in appearance has everything to do with it."

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

"And?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

"And your birth parents will be here shortly, and they can fill you in on everything else," my mum said, hugging me tighter as her eyes welled up with tears.

I spent the rest of the day in my room, attempting to read my book and forget everything. Needless to say I failed miserably. Curiosity and anxiety were weighing me down like the hundreds of books that I carried around at school. I've never done well with anticipation, and I swear I think I paced a hole in my carpet. Finally, I heard the doorbell clang and practically ran down the stairs. I stopped on the bottommost step as I heard voices in the hall, my heart pounding furiously against my chest.

Moments later the kitchen door opened and my mum stepped in, followed by a gorgeous couple who, much to my sheer annoyance, looked just like me. The woman was skinny with curves in all the same places as I had. Her hair was as curly as mine, though it was jet black. Her jaw lines bore so much resemblance to mine that I had to be a fool to not believe that I was related to her. The man had the same eyes as I did, the same pensive expression and observant nature. He was tall, lean, and built with the same tanned skin that I had so recently acquired. They were both amazingly beautiful and together, they had a mesmerizing effect.

When the woman saw me her eyes immediately welled, and I was shocked when she threw her arms around me and wept openly. The man smiled at me and put one hand on my shoulder and the other around his wife's waist.

"Oh, my," the woman said, her eyes never leaving mine. "She's beautiful."

"I'm sorry," I said, almost laughing. "This is too ridiculous. I'm going to lie down and wake up to find this is all some hilarious dream. It's been fun, but it's time to get back to reality."

I was about to storm back to my room when the woman spoke softly.

"No," she said. "This _is_ reality. We are your birth parents. You belong to us, and we belong to you."

"That's bullshit," I said, forgetting my manners and forgetting the fact that I had scolded Ron on numerous occasions for using profanity. "I am a _Granger_! I don't care what you say. I don't even know your name, why should I listen to you?"

"First of all," she said, showing the same determination and confidence that I had earned my reputation for. "You will not speak to me in that manner, I am your mother whether you accept it or not. And secondly," she paused, pulling out two pieces of parchment and handing them to me. "This is why you should listen to me."

I looked at the papers, one was my birth certificate, and the other was a certificate of adoption. I looked down at my name and gasped.

"No," I breathed, looking up at her. "You're—"

"My name is Madeleine Zabini, and this is my husband Damon."

Obedience, loyalty, and honor: three crucial qualities a noble Pureblood must possess in order to be worthy and successful. It was demanding and exhausting at times, all of these expectations and judgments pressuring you to achieve admirable triumphs. With the right friends and the right enemies, however, I have found that it is easier to hold true to your blood. I was fortunate, for my family was never officially in league with the Dark Lord, even though we supported him—well, pretended to. If we would have denounced our support of Voldemort, we would have been labeled as Blood Traitors and in as much danger as Mudbloods. Therefore, I associated myself with only Purebloods, and it became second nature to hate those whose magical bloodline was faulty.

Naturally, when my parents told me to protect her but gave me no reason for it, I was hesitant. Doing so would tarnish my reputation as a Muggle-hating Pureblood, therefore making me just as vulnerable as she. To disobey, however, simply was not something that a Pureblood would do. Fortunately, it was easy for me to watch out for her while maintaining my dignity. Of course, I still disliked her, but I found that you didn't have to like a person to protect them. I never thought that years later, my parents would be sitting before me telling me something like this. I never imagined that the true reason I was assigned to her was because she is my sister. Who would have thought that a know-it-all Gryffindor would be related to Blaise Zabini?

Blaise:

_The lights, damn it, turn off the bloody lights!_ I thought, groaning into my pillow. In some distant place outside of my head I heard my mother's voice. She was saying something to me, but my mind was still too exhausted to function normally, and I couldn't translate the words. I grunted to show that I had heard her, the lights went out again, and I heard my door close.

Some time later, maybe an hour or two, I awoke again and couldn't bring myself to fall back asleep. Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the comfort of my bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. I turned on the shower, breathing in the steam and allowing it to envelope me before stepping in. The warmth woke my senses, and my body slowly followed. By the time I wrapped a towel around my waist I was completely conscious and no longer in my sleepy state of half-wakefulness. This was my usual morning routine, and it worked for me.

I quickly dressed and went downstairs to eat breakfast. At first it seemed odd that my parents weren't already up, but I then remembered my mum telling me something in the early hours of the morning. Concentrating hard, I tried to recall what she had said, but could only remember a few choice words: "Granger," "sister," and "back later."

And then it came to me, and a rush of anticipation and excitement coursed through my newly awoken body. Today was the day that I would be reunited with my twin sister. Surprisingly, I had recovered from the initial shock that came with the news. For a while, I remained in denial, because it was easier to refuse the truth than to accept the fact that someone who I had been taught to hate, I was now supposed to love. Now, however, I had settled on the fact that I may not have hated her as much as I wanted to believe I did. No, in fact, I admired her. She was always so strong, determined, and confident. Sure, she was bossy and harsh, but always within reason and only because she stuck to her morals and convictions, a feat no Pureblood could ever achieve. It wouldn't be so bad, having her for a sister, and I was rather thrilled with the prospect of showing her a whole new way of life.

Almost as soon as these feelings washed through me, a wave of mangled guilt and amusement crept in. My friends were coming over today. I had not told anyone about her, as I wasn't quite sure how they would handle it. I'm still not sure. Draco hates her, but I know that he's really only jealous of her. If there is anything he hates more than Mudbloods, its losing. To have a Mudblood beat him, well, that's just unacceptable. I think he feels the need to remind her that she will always be below him, no matter how intelligent she is. He feels threatened, and will do anything to consolidate for this rare weakness of his. She acts as though it hurts her, and her friends defend her, but I can see through it. She's only humoring him. She knows how he really feels, and she pities him for it. That only makes me admire her more, and I cannot wait to see how my best friend will react to her. I have a slight suspicion that he will feel threatened in an entirely different way. I see the way he eyes her. He's never been one to be discreet about these things, and I cannot fathom how she doesn't notice. I'm not even sure that he notices. Or if he does, he ignores it, and pretends that its second nature. Which, in his defense, it is. Today should be interesting, and I'm sure the rest of my summer will be as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Since I am an amateur, I forgot to add this to the first chapter, so it's in the second one. I hope you can forgive me. Anyway, it's rated for mild language and adult themes, at least in later chapters. The story is mainly told from Hermione's POV, but each chapter ends in Blaise's POV. Sometimes this segment will be short, sometimes it will be long. It really just depends. Please leave me reviews if you have read this, good and bad. Yes, this is a cliché story, but I hope that mine is a little more realistic and has a lot less grammatic errors. (And yes, it is slightly satirical towards the usual adopted Hermione stories. Don't take it personally, this is just my take on a popular cliché.)**

Hermione:

An hour later I sat defeated at the kitchen table, my school trunk packed and waiting by the door. There was no way that I could continue to deny the fact that I was adopted, as the evidence was right in front of me. The name on the birth certificate was not "Hermione Jane Granger," it was "Hermione Jane Zabini." My parents names were not John and Alexandra Granger as I had believed my entire life, they were Damon and Madeleine Zabini. Of course, I hope you don't think that immediately upon seeing these documents I surrendered and accepted it. That's not how I work. I yelled some more, cried some more, and even claimed my belief that at any moment one of them would yell "April Fools!" (even though it was well into August). I then took it one step further, whipping out my wand, tapping the documents, and practically shouting, "_Specialis Revelio!_" in hopes that they were a fluke. No such luck on my part, so I was forced to believe that it was all real.

Before I could ask any questions, though, they had sent me to pack my things so we could leave. I feel certain that you can imagine how angry this made me, so I know that you will believe me when I say that I did not go quietly. Books—yes, my sacred books—were thrown at walls and it was entirely possible that Lady Liberty heard my shouts. You may be wondering to yourself where the calm and collected Hermione Granger was during my charade. Well, to be perfectly honest, she ran off the minute my mother confessed to me that I would be leaving.

So here I was, no more tears left to shed, and my voice too hoarse to shout. I had not surrendered, but I had been beaten. And as that was something that never happens to Hermione Granger, I was in one of the worst states that I can ever remember being in.

"All packed and ready?" Madeleine asked brightly, entering the kitchen and clapping her hands together.

"All packed," I replied blankly. "Not ready."

"Well," she said, sighing. "I suppose it's time you heard the whole truth."

"Yes," I said mockingly. "That would be nice."

My parents—well, adoptive ones anyway—and Damon entered the kitchen and sat around the table.

"Hermione, you have to understand the life of a Pureblood woman," Madeleine began. "Her career is to be a housewife and a breeder for Pureblood men. She has no hopes of independent success and wealth, and can only rely on that of her husband's. Most Pureblood girls are arranged to marry before they can learn to walk. We didn't want that for you. We wanted you to be educated, independent, and to have options. If you were to have grown up in our Pureblooded society, you may not be the brilliant witch that you are. And even if you were, it wouldn't have mattered. Your father and I refused to let that happen. Our hope was that you would find yourself and be your own person, not who your peers _expect_ you to be. In the Pureblood world, expectations are everything, and if you do not live up to them, you would be considered unworthy. I was lucky enough to fall in love with the man I was forced to marry, but most women are not. They pretend to be in love to make their parents happy, but inside they are lonely and depressed. I could not have let that happen to you and look myself in the mirror. So we did the only thing that we could think of. We put you under a spell that would alter your appearance and would gradually wear off until it would be completely lifted on your eighteenth birthday. We then gave you up for adoption to a Muggle family.

"Of course, it was years after that we learned that the Dark Lord never truly left, and we were terrified. We had submitted you to the targeted side, and by doing so we put you in grave danger. Unfortunately, taking you back into the family and into the Pureblood name would put us all at risk, marking us as blood-traitors. So we enlisted the help of Albus Dumbledore and he placed protection spells on you. Also, he had told us of your intelligence and we knew that in the face of danger you would excel. We grew even more terrified, however, when you became friends with Harry Potter. That put you at a greater risk than you could ever understand. So we put extra protections on you, and my son, your brother and twin, Blaise, was assigned to you. His job was to make sure that you were not harmed because of your blood by any of the Purebloods at school. He did tell us, though, that you were perfectly capable of doing so yourself. You have no idea how proud we are of you. And now that Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord for good and you have grown into a successful, motivated, and ambitious young woman, you are ours again."

With each word, it became harder and harder not to believe that I was adopted. I even vaguely remembered times when Slytherins were bothering me and Blaise had suddenly remembered that he had forgotten one thing or another, or that he simply did not want to be late to class. Now, of course, it seemed obvious that he had wanted to lure his friends away from me, to protect me.

"But why couldn't you have told me all of this?" I asked bitterly. "Why did I have to be oblivious to the situation?"

"Because it would have put you in even more danger," Damon answered, looking at me as if it was the most obvious answer and a child should have known. In my mind's eye I recalled many occasions when I wore that very same expression while talking to Harry or Ron. "If the truth ever got out about your Pureblood parents giving you up to Muggles, can you imagine the suspicions and dangers that would arise? People would question your magic, your loyalties, and your family's intentions. Blaise did not even know why he was supposed to protect you, but as he was brought up to learn obedience, he did what he was told without asking questions."

At this, I thought of Blaise and his haughty manner. I had always believed that he was as arrogant as his ferrety friend, but knowing that he had been protecting me all those years was oddly comforting. I still didn't like the prat, though, and the thought of being related to him made me sick to the stomach. A horrible realization came over me and I blurted out my next question.

"Blaise, my—er—twin, am I going to have to live with him?"

"Yes," Madeleine answered, looking at me sternly. "I know that you two have had your differences, but he is your brother, and you will respect each other."

"Do I have any other siblings?" I asked.

"No," said Madeleine. "When I gave you up, it broke my heart and I didn't want to risk having another daughter. I couldn't have lived with myself if I gave up another child."

"Well," Damon said, looking at his wife. "We had better get going."

My stomach dropped as I realized that this was it. I looked at my parents, the two people who had loved me and cared for me all those years. I realized that I may never see them again.

"Hermione," my mum said, crying. "Can you ever forgive us?"

"Of course," I answered. I was still angry with them for not being honest with me, but I also knew that they would always be my parents, no matter what happens. The thought of leaving them made my heart clench and I felt a hot tear sting my cheek. "You are my parents, no matter what my birth certificate says."

My mother and I clutched each other, sobbing silently, while my father laid his hand on my shoulder. We remained like that for a good five minutes, before my mother pulled away and looked at me.

"If you need anything, at any time, we will always be here for you."

"I know," I said, smiling softly. "I really will miss you."

I gave my father a hug and looked towards Madeleine and Damon. I had finally accepted the fact that this was real, and they were my real parents, but I still did not feel comfortable leaving with them.

"Well," Madeleine said, sighing. "Thank you for all that you have done for our Hermione. It means the world to us. She is such a bright witch, and we credit a lot of that to you."

"We are honored," my father answered.

We moved our way through the hall and Damon flicked his wand at my trunk, which rose in the air to hover at his waist. I gave my parents one last hug as I felt the tears streaming down my face. I could hardly believe that this was all happening; it felt as though it were a dream, a bad one at that. Madeleine put her arm around my shoulder and led me through the front doors. Once outside she turned on the spot, pulling me along with her. I caught one last glimpse of the place that I had called home my entire life, before my lungs constricted and blackness closed in. Instinctively, I shut my eyes tightly before feeling my feet hit solid ground.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a beautiful, golden living room that seemed to be glittering in the sunlight that streamed in from the windows. I gasped as I took it all in, from the fluttering gold curtains to the elegant, antique furniture. The walls were ivory and lined with gold flowers and the room felt airy, almost heavenly.

"Wait here and make yourself comfortable," Madeleine told me. "We're going to get your brother."

Of all the things that were on my mind, making myself comfortable was not one of them. Folding my arms across my chest, I stood there, refusing to move further into the room. I'm sure you can imagine the thoughts that were running through my mind. What was I doing here? I don't belong here, this is not my home. Sure it was nice—okay, more than nice—but it wasn't mine. I refused to "make myself comfortable" at all; I will never be comfortable in this house, and never in this family. A lone tear slid down my cheek as I examined the room closer. Underneath the golden linings it was your average living room. There were sofas, a coffee table, a piano, and portraits—everything that a normal living room would contain. Elegance masked mediocrity, and for that I loathed it.

I heard footsteps approaching and hastily wiped the tear from my face. My arms instinctively fell together in my lap, a comforting sign that I had not lost all of my sense of etiquette. Unconsciously, I sucked in a deep breath as the Zabini's appeared in front of me. Blaise had not changed at all, save for the slight increase of muscle mass. His jet black hair was combed to perfection, as per usual, and his grin lit up his golden eyes. He walked towards me and held out a strong hand.

Feeling gawky and hesitant, I placed my hand in his and he brought it to his lips and kissed it, making my cheeks turn slightly pink. His grin broadened, and I could tell that he knew I was nervous. I stiffened, refusing to show weakness and muttered, "Blaise."

"Hermione," he answered, inclining his head. "Welcome to the other half."

"Blaise is going to show you around," Damon informed me. "Please, if you can't be nice to each other, at least keep it civil. You're family now."

With a nod of understanding from Blaise and me, Madeleine and Damon left the room. I looked up at Blaise, who chuckled and smirked at me.

"If you want to remain fertile, Blaise," I warned him. "You will tell me what it is that you find funny."

"Mum told me how _well_ you took the news," he answered.

"Well, what did you expect?" I snapped angrily.

"Just that," he admitted, chuckling again. "My reaction was no better than yours."

"Oh," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Look, I'm sorry that I snapped at you. It's just that this isn't my life, and I'm not sure if I am comfortable with it all yet. I don't really know if I ever will be."

"Understandable," he said. "I'm still not entirely comfortable with having a twin sister that I never knew about, let alone someone who I never thought I would even be friends with."

"Tell me about it," I replied. I was starting to think that living with Blaise may not be all that dreadful; at least he understood how I felt. It was oddly comforting to know that there was someone else who thought that this predicament was insane.

"So, I guess we should get on with the 'Grand Tour'," Blaise said, gesturing towards a hallway to my right. I nodded and followed him through the dark hallway. He showed me the dining room and the drawing room, both having the same glittering, heavenly feel about them. He then led me to an ancient set of oak double doors, sanded and painted to look new. Just standing in front of them made my heart pound and I looked at Blaise curiously. He chuckled and opened the doors muttering, "I should have known."

At first I had no idea what he meant by this, but once I stepped into the room and took a sharp intake of breath, I understood. I was standing in the middle of a vast library with shelves of books that seemed to be infinite. In the center of the room were piles of gold and ivory cushions arranged in inviting clusters. Overcome with the desire to pull books from the shelves and sink into the nearest cushion, I walked into the first aisle and began reading the spines for interesting titles. When I reached out to remove one called _Ancient Spells and Jinxes_, however, Blaise grabbed my arm.

"Later, Hermione," he said, smirking. "I still have to show you the rest of the house."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Well, alright. I suppose I still have to see my room."

He chuckled and pulled me out of the library. As I left the room, I knew that this place would be my haven, and I harbored the suspicion that the best part of my days here would be spent within these four walls.

The rest of the tour was tedious in comparison to the discovery of the library. Blaise showed me the pool, the pool house, the guest rooms, the offices, and the garden. They were all decorated in the same gold and ivory luxuriousness, while arranged in such a peculiarly pedestrian manner.

"This door," Blaise said and gestured to a closed door on our left, "leads to my room."

He opened the door and allowed me to peer inside. I was slightly shocked to see how normal it looked. The room was large, with a bed draped in green and black bed sheets in the middle. It was hard to tell what color the walls were, as nearly every inch was covered in posters of Quidditch teams and Wizard bands. There was a desk in one corner, cluttered with parchment and books. On top of his dresser was a cage, currently empty, but I could tell it belonged to a rather large owl, or perhaps it was simply as spoiled as its owner. Clothes were spilling out of the dresser as if it were an overstuffed teddy bear. Next to the dresser was a closed door that I suspected led to a bathroom. In another corner was a green couch that sat across from a bookcase stocked high with books.

"You read?" I asked, laughing. "I always thought you lot didn't know how to."

"Hey," he replied defensively. "Don't judge _our lot_ by those halfwits, Crabbe and Goyle. Actually, I read quite a lot. The books I keep in here are Muggle literature; I have to put spells on them so my friends think they're by Wizard authors. If they knew I was reading Shakespeare and Twain, they would probably treat me as well as your Weasel friends."

"I would prefer that you use their proper names, Blaise," I told him. "I must admit, I am a little surprised that you enjoy reading so much."

"You shouldn't be," he said. "I mean, I go into the library quite often."

"Oh," I said, even more surprised. "Well, I guess I don't really notice what's going on around me when I'm reading."

Blaise laughed a little, then shut his bedroom door.

"And now," he said, moving towards the door across the hall, "your room."

As he opened the door, my jaw dropped. The room was a stunning blend of lavender and ivory. A queen sized canopy bed was in the center, draped in lavender cotton sheets with ivory pillows. The walls were ivory, and a line of lavender vines was painted along the top. Like Blaise, I had a desk, a dresser, and a book shelf. My couch, however, was lavender and the cage on my dresser was not for an owl, but for a cat. With a twinge of pleasure, I saw that my bandy legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, was curled up inside, fast asleep. I noticed the extra door, positioned in the same place as the one in Blaise's room and walked towards it.

"Would this be—?" I stopped, gasping as the door opened before I could reach it.

I looked at Blaise, who was smirking again, his wand pointed at the door. Stepping inside, my eyes grew wide in awe. My bathroom was magnificent and extravagant. The sink was ivory with a silver tap and decorated with lavender scented candles. I had a shower stall in one corner, a large tub in the other, and a toilet in between. There was a vanity desk complete with a lavender cushioned seat and lighted mirror. There was even a small dressing room, the doorway covered with a lavender curtain. I looked inside to see a full length mirror on the far wall, a lavender seat in the middle, and shelves for shoes and dresses along another wall. I sighed and walked back into my room with a small smile.

"Nice, isn't it?" Blaise asked me from the doorway.

"Yes," I admitted. "All of it."

"Well, that's all there is, really," he said. "I'd return you to the library, but I'm expecting company. You're welcome to join us."

"Thanks," I said, not really wanting to know who "company" was. "But I think I'll just go get started on those books."

He laughed. "Alright, but my offer still stands."

I nodded and walked passed him into the hallway. Before I could take another step however I heard loud cracking sounds and turned to see who had apparated.

"Blaise!" I heard a horribly familiar voice drawling. "How have you been, my friend? Anything new?"

I rolled my eyes at the figures standing with their backs towards me. Two of them were burly and lofty, wearing overlarge shirts and black shorts. The one nearest to me had short and slick blonde hair, and his black shirt hugged his tone shoulders and hung loose over his lean torso. Believe me, I hate the git, but I would be uncharacteristically lying if I told you that he was not unbelievably handsome.

"Actually, Draco," Blaise said, laughing a little. "I have been meaning to tell you something. I have a twin sister."

"What? Since when?"

"Well, you see _Malfoy_," I chimed in, plastering my best imitated Malfoy smirk on my face as they all jumped around to face me. "As a _twin_ can be defined as one of two children or animals brought forth at _birth_, I would hazard a guess that Blaise has had a _twin_ sister since he was _born_."

"_Granger?_" Malfoy said, his mouth hanging open. Crabbe and Goyle stood gaping at me from behind him.

"Actually, it's Zabini now," Blaise said.

"_Actually,_" I replied, shooting a glare in Blaise's direction, "I would prefer that you call me Hermione, but as that is virtually impossible for a ferret such as yourself, Granger will suffice for now."

Blaise looked slightly taken aback, but didn't question me any further. Malfoy smirked as he looked me up and down, his eyes resting on my chest. I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.

"You've changed, Granger," he admitted, knowing that I was uncomfortable under his gaze and taking a step closer to me. "But don't flatter yourself in thinking that I would even think about touching you."

I took a step towards him so that there were only inches between us. I looked into his steel gray eyes which slightly widened when I stroked his cheek with my hand.

"Don't you flatter _yourself_ in thinking that I would even want you to."

I winked suggestively and turned on my heel towards the library. I heard Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise sniggering behind me.

"Shut it," Malfoy snapped at them. "You're still a Mudblood!" He called at my retreating back.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," I called back, waving my hand nonchalantly.

Blaise:

I had to fight to keep my face hard to mask the amusement. Crabbe and Goyle were next to me, battling the same war, but failing. I could see the anger and frustration lingering in Draco's gaze, and knew that it was time to back off. Unfortunately for my half-wit friends, they didn't notice, and each earned a curse from him that left them roped from head to toe and squirming around on the floor like pathetic slugs.

"Do not mock me," Draco spat, his voice a deep menacing growl. With a flick of his wand the curses were lifted and Crabbe and Goyle awkwardly scrambled to their feet, straightening their shirts.

"Relax, mate," I said. "They were only having a joke. So what do you reckon?"

"What? About Granger?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I pity you," he said with a laugh. "I can't imagine how horrible it would be to have to live with such a bossy, know-it-all, piece of filth. I am surprised that you haven't already jumped off the roof and plunged to your death."

"It really isn't that bad," I told him defensively. "I mean, we have a lot in common, namely that we both can't stand this. Neither one of us feels comfortable being lied to our entire lives and we both feel like the change was too much too soon. I know that she has always been a wise-ass interventionist, but we have this bizarre connection. I don't know, Draco, maybe you should drop this invectiveness act and give her a chance. You'd be surprised at what you find."

Draco, who had been listening to my speech with a mixture of boredom and amusement, all the while examining his fingernails, looked up at me and smirked.

"You are completely right, Blaise," he said, sarcasm ringing with every word. "I think I will do that. Yes, I think I will go and buy _Hermione_ flowers and chocolate and apologize to her on bended knee. I will then proceed to have a delightful conversation with her about Muggles, Pothead, and Weasel and we will become inseparable friends. And on our wedding night, I will raise my cup to you and toast to your words of wisdom that have caused me to completely lose my mind."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed and I rolled my eyes. Draco put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.

"You don't get it do you?" he asked me. "She's always been Mudblood filth, and that will never change. I don't care if she's all the sudden related to you, she's still the same domineering, abrasive Granger that she was yesterday."

"Whatever, mate," was my reply as I led them into my room.

"Draco," Crabbe said from the couch. "Why don't you tell Blaise about your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Draco asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I am insulted that you think I would be willing to commit myself to such a dirty slut—to any girl for that matter. No one ties Draco Malfoy down."

"Yeah, yeah," Goyle smirked. "We get the same speech everytime. And still, you have yet to break things off with her."

"Oh, you know it's all for show," Draco sneered. "I only keep her around because the sex is amazing."

"So I have heard," I said. "In fact, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch Team was telling me that just the other day."

Draco smirked. "Yes, that girl does manage to get around, doesn't she?"

"Anyway, what did Crabbe want you to tell me?"

"Oh," Draco chuckled. "You know how our parents have had that pre-arranged marriage thing going for a while, right? Well, her parents were killed in the war, so it's off. Thank, Merlin."

"Oh, how sympathetic you are, Drakie," I laughed.

"Oh, sod off," he sneered. "Believe me, Pansy isn't too broken up about it. She would have done it herself if Papa Weasel hadn't gotten to them first."

The door to my room opened and my dad poked his head in.

"'Ello, boys," he said to my friends. "Blaise, do you know where your sister is?"

I laughed. "Dad, can I offer you a little helpful hint? Hermione sort of has a thing for books."

Draco scoffed. "A thing? She fucking lives in the library."

"So, she's in the library?" Dad asked.

"I'd bet a million Galleons and Goyle's life," I replied.

"Thanks, mate," Goyle said as my dad closed the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: First off, thanks to all my lovely reviewers... yes, that's called sarcasm. Secondly, Albus Dumbledore lives! At least, in here he does. I'm only saying this because there is a reference to him in the next chapter and I just wanted to warn you that it is not referring to him being dead, but rather him being extremely old... you'll see. **

Hermione:

As much as it pains me to admit this, I was actually quite content lounging in the gold cushions of the library with a stack of books around me. I'm not saying that it felt like home, but for a moment I was able to pretend that I was somewhere other than the hell-hole I had landed in. No, I was not in some strange house that belonged to unfamiliar people who were now my "family," I was in France, in a small cottage that belongs to a poor widowed witch who was raising a squib using the little money she made from cleaning rooms at a local inn. I was in Africa with a young wizard, battling wild dragons and giants and helping him find his courage to follow in his dead father's footsteps and lead his tribe to victory. I was in Greece, studying fossils with a group of talented witches and finding the hidden secrets of ancient magical creatures. I was in—

"Hermione?"

Hell.

"Hermione?"

I shut my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh before turning to see who had disrupted my peace. It was Damon.

"There you are," he said, smiling at me. "I've been looking for you."

"Well, you found me," I said, biting back the bitterness.

"Yes, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Fine," I said, hoping that my lack of a proper answer would drive him away. How naïve of me.

"So what are you up to?" He asked. I could tell he was only looking for conversational topics and it annoyed me to the brink of insanity.

I was sorely tempted to come up with some brilliantly sarcastic remark worthy of the Ferret, but remembered my well-learned manners and bit my tongue. Instead, I settled on one-word answers.

"Reading."

"What sorts of books do you like?" This man wouldn't quit, would he? I'm sure that you, like me, have recognized this persistency as a character trait that I, myself, have mastered. This only made me more irritated, but as the opportunity to discuss books does not often appear in conversation, I, being Hermione Granger, had to take advantage of it. Besides, perhaps my new-found father will contain the brain capacity to quench my thirst for an intellectual conversation. And so, with a deep breath and a courteous smile, I gave Damon my first adequate answer.

"I usually enjoy the sorts of books that I can indulge myself in," I said, not able to prevent the smile that crept up through my lips. "The type of book that keeps me so enticed that I cannot put it down. If I am forced to put it down, I go absolutely crazy with the anticipation, and at times it becomes unbearable. And when my eyes finally pass over the last sentence, I stare at the blank part of the page, wishing that more words would appear and the story would continue. I love the type of books that allow me to forget the world around me and become a part of the story. I also enjoy the books that offer me knowledge. I have found that if you are ever in search of the truth, and the whole truth, books are your most reliable source. So, to be honest, I just enjoy books in general."

"I completely understand," he said, looking at me with admiration. "There are times when life gets so out of control that you want to leave it all behind and become a new person, in a new world, in a new… family, perhaps?"

He gave me a knowing look and picked up one of the books that lay in my pile.

"May I?"

I merely nodded, unable to string words together in a coherent sentence at the shock of what I had just heard. He understood. The man who had abruptly entered my life, claiming to be my father, and tore me from the familiarity and comfort of my home, understood how I felt about it all. I suppose I could allow myself to let him understand. We read in the complete silence of each other's company for about an hour. I had to admit, it was nice. On some crazy, bookworm level we connected, and I was starting to feel comfortable in his presence.

The sun was slowly creeping behind the hills when the library doors opened and Madeleine appeared.

"Dinner," she told us.

Damon nodded and stood, holding out his hand to me and helping me to my feet. I followed him out the doors and into the dining room. Once inside I noticed that Draco and his cronies were still here. They were all standing behind golden chairs. Madeleine was at the far end, on her left was Goyle and on his left was Malfoy. On Madeleine's right was Crabbe, then Blaise. Damon moved to the head of the table and I stopped at the doorway. I felt more out of place than I had all day. These people have probably had dinner together on numerous occasions, and I felt like an intruder. There were two empty seats, one next to Draco and one next to Blaise. Without hesitation I moved to stand behind the chair on Blaise's right. With a nod of her head, Madeleine sat and the rest of us followed.

The dinner was as delicious as would be expected for such a wealthy family. Polite chatter and the _clink _of silver filled the room for the first few minutes, and I was grateful that the conversation was not geared towards me. I took a bite of my salad, noting how dry it was. I looked over the table for the dressing and located it in its position in front of Madeleine.

Here I was faced with a dilemma. Thus far, I had avoided any situation in which I had to address Madeleine or Damon, for I had absolutely no idea what to refer to them as. I was not yet ready to call them Mum and Dad, and was not entirely sure when that would happen. Calling them by their first names would be incredibly rude and undignified, especially without their consent. Calling them Mr. and Mrs. Zabini was just ludicrous.

"Erm—"

Before I could come up with something to say, however, Blaise came to my rescue.

"Mum, I believe Hermione would like some dressing for her salad."

"Of course," she said, passing it down the table.

I thanked her and blushed, smiling at Blaise gratefully. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed.

"Hermione," she added. "You may call me Lennie."

My blush deepened as I nodded. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Malfoy smirk, and kicked him under the table. Thankfully, no one else noticed his rather exaggerated cringe and I sent him a victorious glare.

"And you may call Damon by his first name."

Damon smiled at me and I returned it politely.

"Is there a name you would prefer that we call you?" He asked me.

"Yeah, didn't your friends call you 'Mione?" Blaise chimed.

I crinkled my nose at him.

"Yes," I said bitterly. "But, to be honest, it was never appealing to me. It made me sound like a body part. My par—the Granger's used to call me Minny."

"Minny it is, then," Lennie said.

At the mention of my friends I remembered that I was supposed to be leaving for the Burrow in a few days to spend the remainder of my holidays there. I still wanted to go, but had a feeling that my new family would take offense if I took off so suddenly. I decided, with a pang of regret, that I would stay here and perhaps meet my friends in Diagon Alley for a day.

After dinner I sat in my room for a while. Blaise invited me, once again, to join him and his friends in his room, but I declined. I had no desire to spend my night in Malfoy's company, and I knew that he felt the same way about me. I sat on my bed—or rather, _the_ bed—reading a book called _History of a Mystery: The Legend of the Dragon of Gringotts_. It was a comfortable bed, and a beautiful bed, and a _large_ bed. But it was not, by any means of the word, _my_ bed.

Sighing, I closed the book and set it on the bedside table. I considered for a moment returning to the library and exchanging it for another book, but decided I needed to test out a new method of relaxation.

I entered my bathroom and donned my new, conservative one piece light blue bathing suit with a large black flower printed on it. The suit had no back, so the tanned skin of my back was exposed. It ran over my flat belly and hugged the curves of my hips in a classy, sophisticated way. I looked good in it, but not like the girls who ran around the beaches covered in nothing but small triangles of fabric. I grabbed the lavender robe that hung from the hook on the door and made my way down to the indoor swimming pool.

Once I arrived, I found my destination easily. In the far corner was a circular spa, big enough to swim laps in. I cautiously dipped my toes into the heated water and shuddered as warmth spread through my leg. I slipped off my robe and submerged my right foot in the steamy heaven. Before I could go any further, a wolf-whistle at the door made me spin my head around. Much to my surprise and displeasure, Malfoy was walking towards me, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle in his wake. In case I wasn't irritated enough, they were all wearing their swim trunks. As they got nearer, I couldn't help but admire Malfoy's well-toned abdomen and lean torso. I cursed myself as Malfoy smirked his aggravating, yet infuriatingly sexy smirk.

"Want some company, Mud?"

Blaise:

Sitting in my room and making pillows fly at each other became boring, and we decided to take a dip in the spa. So after we had all changed, we walked down to the pool, only to find Hermione already there, preparing to step in. Draco looked at me and smirked, licked his lips and let out a wolf-whistle. She jerked her head in our direction, and even from far away, I could tell she was not pleased. I watched her eyes flick over Draco, and a sideways glance at him told me that he was doing the same to her. I laughed to myself as Draco smirked at her.

"Want some company, Mud?"

"Not particularly from _you_, actually," she said, glaring at him. "But I am sure that I have no say in the matter."

She really was intelligent, that Hermione. Draco laughed and stepped behind her so that his chest was practically touching her back. I saw the goosebumbs that had erupted like volcanoes up Hermione's arms.

"Well?" He spat. "We're waiting."

She elbowed him in the stomach, not too hard, but enough to knock him off his guard and submerged herself in the water.

He glared at her laughing face as he followed. The rest of us got in, and we all sat in silence for a while.

"How are Potter and Weasley?" I asked Minny, attempting to start a civil conversation. Rule 1 in civility where Draco is concerned: Never bring up Potty and Weasel.

"Yes, how are the Golden Queers?" He sneered.

"_Harry_ and _Ronald_ are doing just fine," she answered.

"Are you going to see them at all before term starts?" I asked, ignoring the intensity of Minny and Draco's glares.

"Actually, Mrs. Weasley had invited me to spend the rest of the holidays at the Burrow," she said, and I heard the bitterness in her voice. "I was supposed to leave in two days, but given the _circumstances_, I figured it would be best if I did not go. I'll probably meet them up in Diagon Alley and spend the day with them, though."

I pitied her; she was giving up so much lately: her home, her parents, and now her friends. The pain that these words had caused her was evident in every crease of her face, and I could feel it, too. I guess this was one of those brotherly-sisterly moments, but as I gave her an apologetic look, I could practically hear the thoughts streaming through her head. For an instant, I could have sworn I heard her think, _I belong there, with them…not here, with _them.

"Did you say something?" I asked.

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. There it was again. This time I heard the words as clear as though they had been whispered in my ear. _What is he on about?_

I was stunned. Was I hearing Hermione's thoughts? Could I communicate with my twin sister telepathically? I had never heard of such a thing, perhaps I was losing my mind. Yet, I had to test it. Locking eyes with her, I concentrated hard and thought, _Minny, can you hear this?_

When her eyebrows disappeared in her hair and her mouth opened slightly, I knew that she had. She nodded slowly, and looked back at me, _Yes, you?_

I nodded.

_Bloody Hell._ I laughed and nodded again. Draco was looking at me like I had sprouted a purple umbrella on the top of my head.

"What are you guys _doing_?" he asked us, looking from Minny to me like we were playing in a tennis match.

"Nothing that concerns _you_," Minny said. "Now, if you will excuse me, my time here is spent. I am going to the library."

She got out of the spa, toweled herself off and threw her robe on. With one last look at me she thought, _Three guesses as to _why_ I am going_.

I smiled at her as she took her leave.

**Alright, come on now. I know the majority of you are writers as well, so you know what I mean when I say that I would really appreciate hearing what you think. Especially since I am beta-less for this chapter. Please don't make me beg like a little girl who wants a puppy.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Well, four reviews is a lot better than none, so I suppose I am happy. Man, I just sounded like my mother. "I suppose," is such a Momish thing to say. Does that ever happen? You say something and then immediately recognize it as something that someone else always says and you kind of feel like you ripped them off. Like sometimes when I get frustrated, instead of my usual God, shit, damn, Jesus, etc., I'll say Merlin. That's always awkward. Whenever that happens I take a week's break from reading anything Harry Potter. Oh and another fun one is "Jesus Herald Christ on Rubber Crutches" a la that crazy journalist guy from Zodiac. Anyway... here's the latest installment, and it's a bit lengthy. Oh and just to let you all know, I really do hope you aren't looking for some mad sex and hot porno.. because that's not what this is. If that's what you are looking for, you may want to quit reading now. Or keep reading and you can add in your crazy sex scenes on your own. I mean, there will be "adult themes" later on, but it will all be pretty much theoretical with no vivid imagery. Sorry to burst your bubble. **

Hermione:

I leaned my back up against the wooden shelf behind me, sighing as my eyes ran frantically from spine to spine. _Mind Benders_—no; _Mind Control_—not quite; _Mind Games_—would be an interesting read, but no; _Mind Powers_—maybe, I'll take it just in case; _Mind Reading_—could be, I'll take that one, too.

With the two books tucked gently in the folds of my arms, I emerged from the aisle and sat down on the closest cushion. I opened _Mind Reading_ to the Table of Contents and skimmed down the list of topics with my index finger. Nothing. Sighing, I threw the book aside and opened the next one, _Mind Powers_. Almost immediately, I located the topic "Telepathy" with my finger. Under "Telepathy" were subcategories, and about three-quarters down the list was, "Twin Telepathy- Page 217."

My heart began beating faster as I flipped through the pages excitedly.

Page 217 read, "_Twin Telepathy is a rare occurrence in Pureblood families. When a wizard and a witch, each from deep Pureblood roots, conceive twins, pure magical blood that they inherit may be shared, often resulting in a magical bind. The effects of this bind differ from family to family, but in most cases the result is Twin Telepathy. This rare mind power allows the twins to communicate through their thoughts from any distance at any time. Usually, this power develops around the late teenage or early adult years, but is somewhat noticeable all throughout childhood._"

I marked the page as I thought about this new discovery. It made me wonder if any of the other twins I had met had this "Twin Telepathy" thing, as well. I thought about Fred and George Weasley and the way they would always finish each other's sentences. They had to have it. Although, for all I know, they had never told anyone, so perhaps they did not. I made a mental note to ask them about it when I next saw them as the library door opened and Blaise strode in.

"Found anything?" he asked without preamble.

"Actually, yes," I replied, smiling. It felt good to be Hermione Granger, Head Bookworm. Ask me to find you anything, and I'd bet I could in, at the very most, a week. Admittedly, this one particular challenge was not so difficult, but it was still an accomplishment.

I slid the book over as he sat next to me and I pointed to the passage on Twin Telepathy. I watched with expectancy as his eyes rolled over the page, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. After a minute he looked up at me and smirked, '_Merlin, this is cool_.'

I smiled and nodded.

"So where did your friends go?" I asked him out loud. I didn't feel the need to pursue a conversation with our minds when we were perfectly capable and free to do so with our mouths.

"Home," he said simply. "I got bored with them. Besides, you weren't the only one keen to find out what our newfound ability was all about. Look, it's getting late; you should probably get some rest. I'm sure your day has been long enough."

I scoffed and shook my head, '_You have no idea'_.

'_I'm sorry, Minny_,' he smiled apologetically, rising to his feet.

We walked to our bedrooms in silence, both reflecting on the insanity of the day. Once I reached the door, I smiled at him and entered the lavender room. I slid off the robe that was still draped over my bathing-suit covered body and peered around the room. I missed _my _room, and all I wanted to do was return to it and curl up in a ball on my bed with my mother by my side. Tears stung my eyes as I changed into my sunflower yellow pajama pants and pink tank top. I slithered into the lavender covers, moving around restlessly to find a comfortable position. Finally, I settled on my stomach, my arms underneath my pillow. A drop of salty fluid fell across my nose and landed on the ivory pillowcase.

'_Goodnight, Minny, sleep well_.'

The corners of my lips curled upwards and I closed my eyes with a yawning sigh.

_'Goodnight, Blaise, and thank you.'_

Another deep breath and I had fallen victim to the lure of dreamy nothingness.

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My eyes flicked open sooner than desired the next morning and I let out a frustrated groan. I tried to listen for sounds that may have triggered my abrupt departure from slumber but heard nothing. Sighing, I closed my eyes again and attempted to push myself back into my dreams and had almost succeeded when a breezy whisper brushed across my mind, '_Up yet, Minny?_'

I groaned again. '_Reluctantly so._'

'_Sorry, did you hear me the first time? Our Hogwarts letters arrived early this morning, and Mum has them. She came in to wake me and I offered to wake you. Believe me, its better this way. You don't want to be woken up by Madeleine Zabini._'

I'm not quite sure if I smiled at this, but if I was more awake I probably would have. I rolled onto my back and stretched my arms above my head.

'_I suppose I should thank you, then. Still, a few more hours of sleep sounds a little more welcoming, right now._'

'_Can't, Minny. We're going to Diagon Alley today. Mum says you can floo your friends and tell them to meet you there._'

'_Fine, I give up. Just let me shower and I'll meet you downstairs._'

Later, I am going back to that book and seeing if there is a way I can shut this thing off for a while. A sleep-deprived Hermione is not a fun Hermione to be around, and with Blaise constantly in my ear, I will be about as fun as getting a wand stuck up your—

'_Hermione! Up!_'

'_Bloody arse. Merlin, I'm up._'

With another groan, I rolled around again so that I was leaning on my elbows and staring down at an undignified wet circle on my pillow that was no doubt a pool of saliva. Yes, Hermione Granger drools. And occasionally snores. It's true. It embarrassed me at one point in my life, but to be perfectly honest it is an involuntary bodily function that cannot be helped. If it could be, do you honestly think that I would still do it?

I arched my back and heard a satisfying crack, before slumping my feet over the edge of the bed. With an enormous amount of effort, I was able to rise to my feet in a standing position. I did a couple of stretches and dragged myself into the bathroom.

About an hour later I was dressed and my wet hair was plaited down my back. I made my way through the massive house and abundant halls in search of the dining room, stopping at a statue of a unicorn. It was then that I realized that I had no idea where I was going.

'_Blaise, don't laugh at me, but I'm lost._'

'_I'm not laughing—chuckling a bit, but not laughing. Where are you?_'

'_Near a statue of a unicorn._'

'_Okay, turn around and take the third hall on the right._'

Following his directions I ended up in a slightly darker hall with no windows.

'_Creepy. Okay, now what?_'

'_Spin around five times and say "Artichoke, artichoke!" while tapping your nose._'

'_Blaise!_'

'_Okay, okay, just a little joke. Keep walking and you'll come out on another hall, turn left and it will lead you to the staircase. You should be okay from there._'

'_Thank you._'

Minutes later I had found my way into the dining room and collapsed into the chair next to Blaise.

"Good morning, Minny," he said, smiling at me. "Orange juice?"

"Thank you," I said, watching as he poured a cup and handed it to me.

Lennie walked in and stood behind me, putting her hand on my shoulder and placing an envelope on the table in front of me.

"Good morning," she said. "Your Hogwarts letter came earlier. I was thinking that we would go to Diagon Alley today. Blaise will be off with his friends and I would rather enjoy your company in the morning. We can do a bit of shopping and get something to eat, and then you can meet your friends and spend the remainder of the day with them. Sound good?"

I nodded as I opened the letter, vivid visions running through my head. I had always dreamed of this day, of opening my seventh and final Hogwarts letter. My image of this moment was that as I pulled the letter from the envelope, something would fall to the floor and I would hear a _clink_ of metal and look down to see a small badge. I would then pick it from the floor, examine it, and then let out a shriek of excitement and shock, even though it was inevitable that the position would be mine.

It was not quite as dramatic as I had dreamed. As my hand reached into the envelope, I felt a sharp prick on my index finger and snatched it back with a gasp. Blood oozed out of the miniscule hole and I grabbed a napkin to dab at it. With more caution, I slid my other hand inside it and felt cold metal hit my skin. I smiled as I pulled the silver badge out, decorated with the Hogwarts crest and the glistening scarlet words, "Head Girl."

"What a surprise," Blaise remarked sarcastically. "Never would have seen _that_ one coming."

I rolled my eyes at him as he laughed.

"Congratulations, Minny," Lennie said, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and kissing my cheek. I was not quite sure if I should return the gesture, so I settled on patting her forearm awkwardly.

"Thank you."

My letter was the same as it had always been, except that I had an extra one this year congratulating me on my achievement. It also said to meet Professor McGonagall in the Head Compartment on the Hogwarts Express to learn my duties and lead a Prefect's meeting. Nothing I couldn't have already guessed, really.

After a quick breakfast I went to the fireplace, threw a pinch of floo powder onto the flames, emerged my head in them, and called "The Burrow!" My head started spinning incessantly until abruptly stopping in the fireplace of the Weasley Kitchen. They were all gathered around the table, happily chatting over a glorious breakfast. Fred was the first to spot me.

"Oi! Couldn't be bothered dragging your arse over to our house and yet your head shows up in our fireplace?" he said, a goofy grin spreading over his freckled face.

Heads turned in my direction. Ginny shrieked and jumped out of her chair to kneel at the hearth. Harry and Ron simultaneously shouted, "Mione!" and knelt on either side of Ginny. The rest just smiled at me lovingly.

"Good morning!" I said, smiling back at them all. "Listen, I'm sorry about not being able to come over, my family situation is a little crazy right now."

"How crazy can two dentists get? Did you get a cavity, Hermione Granger?" George said, plastering a mock scandalized look on his face.

I had not yet made it around to telling them about the Zabini's, and was still not quite ready to. Don't ask me why I was holding back from them, because I would not be able to give you an honest answer. Perhaps it was because saying it aloud would make it incontestably true, and I still had my toe dipped in denial.

"No, it's a little more complicated than that," I said, laughing a little. "I'll explain it all later. Anyway, I was wondering if you got your Hogwarts letters yet."

"Yes, they came yesterday," Harry replied.

"We were actually planning on heading to Diagon Alley today, Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "You are very welcome to join us."

"Coincidentally, that is why my head is in your fireplace this morning," I told her. "I am going to Diagon Alley today, as well, and was hoping that I could meet up with you after lunch."

"Brilliant!" Ron said happily. "We've missed you, Mione!"

"I know, I've missed you all."

"Great, so we'll see you later?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," I said. "Later."

I smiled at them all before pulling my head out of the fire. On the other end I was on my hands and knees, the latter throbbing painfully. As I got to my feet, I heard a voice that made my spine tingle and my eyes roll simultaneously.

"I was quite enjoying the view, Granger," Draco Malfoy said, and it was as if I could hear him smirk.

I turned around to see that he was indeed wearing his expert smirk. He was leaning against the wall by the table, his arms folded across his chest. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sitting at the table and there were two additions to the group. They were both girls with black hair and pale complexions, one slightly resembled a pug and the other was rather large and round. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode examined me closely, looks of hatred in their eyes. There was something else, though, and for a wild moment I thought it may be jealousy, before discarding the idea as absurd and nonsensical. What have they to be jealous of me for?

I glared at Draco disgustedly, before turning to Blaise.

'_Is this a new method of tormenting me?_'

'_Most likely. Just ignore him._'

I rolled my eyes again as Lennie reentered the room.

"Everyone ready?" she asked.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Minny, come look at this."

We were in an expensive jewelry store, looking at elegant necklaces, bracelets and rings. Some of them were so fancy that I was afraid to touch them. The necklace that Lennie was showing me was a small heart-shaped silver pendent, christened with a diamond stud. I thought it must be worth more than Harry's firebolt, and felt myself wishing I had all the galleons in the world so that I could buy it.

"Do you like it?" Madeleine asked me.

"It's gorgeous," I said.

She smiled and asked the wizard behind the counter how much it was. It was extremely pricey and I was shocked when she pulled out her purse to pay for it. I was in a bit of a daze as she thanked him and lead me out of the store. Once outside she handed me the small bag and I looked at her curiously.

"It's yours," she said as if Christmas had come early.

"Mine?" I gaped. "But it was too expensive, you should keep it."

"Nonsense," she said. "I have never had a daughter to spoil until now, and I have been saving money for this very purpose for quite some time. You deserve this and so much more after everything I have put you through. This is just the beginning."

She grinned and I smiled in spite of myself, my eyes becoming watery.

"You really don't have to buy me anything," I said.

"But I want to," she insisted. "You are my daughter and I love you. I have not been able to show that for seventeen years, but now, finally, I can. And that is exactly what I plan on doing."

I knew that she couldn't buy me off, but I also knew that that was not her intention. She simply wanted to do what every mother does for her daughter, and seventeen years of being deprived of such a pleasure has built up inside of her. Now that I am here, she is letting it all out.

We spent the morning browsing through shops and buying all my school supplies. Lennie bought me a beautiful new set of scarlet dress robes and pearl earrings to match. The more time I spent with her, laughing at silly clothes or admiring the handiwork of antique furniture, the more I grew to like her. We had a lot in common, but unlike with Damon, who shared all my inner personalities, our similarities were our outward characteristics. We were alike in our boldness and determination, in are cleverness and sharpness, and in our bubbly, happy optimism. Okay, so the last one hasn't really been true for me for the past two days, but I have a legitimate excuse.

We ate a hurried lunch in a café near Ollivander's. Having explained to her that I had not yet filled my friends in on my family status, we went our separate ways minutes before I was scheduled to meet Harry and the Weasley's.

"Mione!"

The excited voice came from behind me, but I had no time to register who it belonged to because I was nearly pummeled by a strong, red-haired figure. Of course, the red hair was a tip off, and it didn't take much to process who it was that had nearly run me to the ground.

"Ow! Ronald, do you think you could have been a little smoother?" I said, halfway between grinning and glaring. "Merlin, that was about as gentle as being ploughed by a charging bull."

"Sorry, Mione," he said. "Just a little excited to see you, is all."

A grinning face topped with chaotic black hair appeared at Ron's side. He gave me a much more placid hug and looked me over.

"Merlin, you look different," Harry said.

"Is it that bad?" I asked timidly.

"Not at all, love," Fred Weasley said, materializing at my right side and throwing his arm around my shoulder.

"You look absolutely, positively ravishing," George Weasley said from my other side, as he two draped an arm around me.

My face blushed as I rolled my eyes and dipped out from their offending limbs. Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley strolled up to us next, and they each gave me a hug.

"How was your summer, Hermione?" Ginny asked. I could tell that she was immensely pleased to have a female her age to consult with, and I couldn't blame her. Living with all boys had to be rough on a girl.

"It was good," I said. "The past couple of days have been a bit stressful, but I've managed."

"We were just heading over to the twins' store," Ron told me. "They have some new stock that they want us to check out. They're off work today, so they can actually show us around without having to deal with bloody kids trying to knick things."

"Though, we can't promise you that we _won't _deal with them," George added.

I laughed and followed them into Weasley's Wizard Wheezies. We spent close to an hour in their store, entertained by the new items they had. After a while though, the amusement wore off, and Harry, Ron and I left the store. We were wandering around aimlessly when I heard familiar laughter. I looked around and saw Blaise, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop. An uneasy feeling crept into my stomach and I tried to steer my friends away from them.

"Hey, let's get some ice cream," Harry suggested.

Of course, Harry had a sudden urge for ice cream the one time that I needed him not to.

"I'm not really in the mood for ice cream," I said, hoping that they didn't hear the panic in my voice. "Can't we do something else?"

"Oh, come on, Mione," Ron whined. "I'm so hot."

"You give yourself way too much credit, Ron," I countered. Harry laughed as Ron's face turned beet red, and I couldn't help but smile at him. "Oh, lighten up, it was a joke."

"Well, the only way you can redeem yourself is by getting ice cream with us," Ron said defiantly.

Before I could protest, he had grabbed me by the elbow and was steering me towards the ice cream parlour. As we got nearer, Draco looked up at us and smirked, nudging Blaise and gesturing in my direction. To my utter horror, the four boys stood up and were soon standing feet away from us, blocking our way inside. I groaned as Malfoy winked at me, and was severely tempted to turn and run.

Blaise:

We had spent the majority of our day buying our school things, and finished with a few hours to spare. The girls had become unbearably annoying, between gossiping—mostly about Minny, actually—and flirtatiously clinging to Draco and me. For no matter how much Draco insisted that Pansy was not his girlfriend, she remained adhered to Draco's side possessively. Millicent, on the other hand, supposively had a massive, childish crush on me. Instead of being flattering, I found it absolutely repulsing. She's a nice enough girl, but as loud as a trumpet clogged with gum and as indecent as Professor McGonagall running through the quidditch pitch stark naked. Thankfully, we were able to ditch them in the bookstore, and had avoided them ever since.

We had decided to get some ice cream after Crabbe ran into a little boy who spilled his all over Crabbe's shirt. It was a glorious day, so we sat outside, people watching.

"So, what was going on between you and Granger last night," Draco asked me. "I would have thought you two were having a silent conversation if I didn't know you were a male."

"I could ask you the same question," I retorted. "I mean, you were practically groping her."

He scoffed disgustedly. "I would never _grope_ a filthy, know-it-all Mudblood, Blaise"

"Dumbledore flooed," I said. "He wants his insults back. Honestly, can't you be a bit more creative?"

"Sod off," he replied lamely. A second later a smirk appeared on his face and he nudged me, nodding his head toward three people walking towards the ice cream shop. I recognized them as Minny, Potty, and Weasel and we all stood up to meet them. Hermione looked panicked and nervous and she caught my eye briefly.

'_I haven't told them yet!_'

I looked quickly to Draco who had opened his mouth to speak and realized it was too late.

"Have you come to formally introduce Wonder Boy and his faithful Sidekick to your new twin brother, Granger—or should I say, Zabini?"

"_Granger_, Malfoy, its still Granger," Minny said hastily, glancing at her friends to see their reactions. They both stood shocked, gaping at her for an explanation.

"Mione, did that prat just call you Zabini?" Harry asked her.

Minny looked as though she could have died as she regretfully nodded her head.

"Why the bloody hell would he fucking call you that?" Ron asked, clenching his fist as though he wanted to hit someone. "And what about this twin brother business?"

I could tell that she would never be able to find her voice, so I stepped in.

"Minny—Hermione—is my twin sister. She was adopted at birth by the Granger's because my parents wanted to shield her from the influence of growing up as a Pureblood witch. Thanks to you, Harry, we were finally able to reclaim her as a Zabini without fear of being persecuted by the Dark Lord or his supporters. Neither Minny nor I knew that we were twins until recently. She just moved in yesterday, which is why she has declined your invitation to stay at the Burrow."

Hermione looked at me and gave me a small smile.

'_Thanks._'

I nodded at her.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asked her. He was more hurt than he was angry, while Ron looked positively livid.

"I don't know," she said, her usual boldness and Gryffindor bravery glinting in her eyes. "Maybe I just wasn't ready to, yet. Merlin, this all happened _yesterday_, I still haven't fully come to terms with it, myself."

"But we're your best mates!" Ron argued.

Next to me, Draco was having a fit of laughter, clearly enjoying this little scene and obviously proud of himself for invoking it. Crabbe and Goyle were also amused, but more at Draco than the three bickering friends.

"You just don't understand, do you?" Minny asked Ron, her eyes becoming glossy.

"Apparently not," Ron said before turning on his heel and walking away. Harry looked as if he was going to apologize, but instead shot an uncertain look at me and followed Ron.

I looked at Minny solemnly, '_Don't worry about them; they'll come around._'

She shook her head, the tears freely flowing down her face, and I put my arm around her shoulder.

"Come on, Minny, Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione:

Ronald Weasley is the epitome of obdurateness. Honestly, it has been three days now and he still remains stubbornly rooted in his anger towards me. Harry, however, wrote me a letter the next day, offering his sincerest apology, sympathy, and support. He also mentioned that he would attempt to sway Ron to do the same, but did not promise much success.

Meanwhile, life with the Zabini's had become a little easier, though I was still unable to convince myself that I belonged in it. After making a few minor improvements to the décor of my new bedroom, it began to feel more comfortable. I had finally unpacked my trunk and loaded my belongings into my dresser, filled the bookshelf to its brim, and covered my desk with photographs that I had collected over the years. When I had finished late yesterday, Blaise remarked that the room now contained, "the essence of Hermione."

Perhaps the greatest improvement and the most influential factor to my comfort, however, had been granted to me by a certain blond-haired prick. Due to the death of a distant relative, Malfoy had been away for two days now and was not expected to return for another three. His absence had worked wonders on my mood, causing my buoyant nature to return in full swing.

I had been to tea at my parents' house twice now, and was in correspondence with them daily. When I told them that I had been selected as Head Girl, they laughed and reminded me that they expected as much. When I told Harry and the Weasley's, they also agreed that it came as no shock that I was made Head Girl. Clearly, something as inevitable as such does not require celebration; nonetheless, it was slightly disheartening that none was offered to me.

Presently, I was sitting at one of the desks that I had recently discovered lurking in the shadows of the farthest corner of the library, writing my usual letters. These desks were unlike any desk that I had ever even imagined: beautiful antique finished mahogany with old-fashioned legs and drawers that looked small from the outside but had more storage space than The Fat Lady's undergarments. Oh, but that was a terrible thing for me to say. I must apologize for that uncivilized vilification against the Guardian of Gryffindor Tower; I think Malfoy may be rubbing off on me. Maybe I should have a shower—or twenty.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands and stood up, collecting my things in my arms. As I approached the door, I realized that it would be quite a task to get it open without dropping anything. Fortunately, the door swung open before I could even contemplate this.

"Hey, Minny," Blaise said, holding it open and stepping aside so I could pass through.

"Thanks," I said. "Did you want to talk to me?"

He looked a little hesitant for a moment, but then nodded his head and reached out to take some of my books from my arms.

"Why don't we deposit these in your room, first," he suggested. It was my turn to nod.

Once my books were safely in their place—alphabetically, of course—and my fresh letters attached to Blaise's tawny owl—which consequently was not as large as it's cage would suggest, but was still much bigger than Hedwig—he lead me outside to a large garden. Benches were scattered artistically and flowers of every shape and size grew in beautiful patterns. We sat on one of the benches and Blaise sighed before looking at me.

"Hermione, I'm not really supposed to be telling you this," he spoke with a little caution, but as he progressed, determination became dominant. "Draco wants it to be a surprise, because he wants to see the look on your face when you find out. But as you are my sister, I cannot let you go into this unprepared. Minny, Draco was chosen Head Boy."

I looked at him for moment, laughed, and then sighed.

"Blaise, did you honestly think that I am that stupid?" I asked him. "I wasn't chosen Head Girl for nothing. I am the brightest witch in our year, and my deduction skills are sharper than most. Neither Harry nor Ron was chosen as Head Boy, and you were not either. Nearly every other boy in our year have intellects rivaled only by garden tools. Of course I suspected that Malfoy was Head Boy, as the only other scenario available to me was that I would be sharing the title with an overgrown gnome."

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess you really are a know-it-all, Hermione Jane."

"Keep it down," I urged sarcastically, glancing around as if checking to make sure we wouldn't be heard. "We don't want anyone else finding out."

He chuckled as I bid him goodbye and hurried to my room to start on those twenty showers I promised myself.

It had been a full week since I moved in with the Zabini's, and I was beginning to break into a routine. I would wake mid-morning, shower, and eat a breakfast that usually consisted of toast and pumpkin juice with Lennie. My mornings were spent in the library, reading my new school books or writing my usual novel-length letters. I would then take a relaxing dip in the pool before eating sandwiches in the garden with Blaise. During my afternoons, I would spend time with Blaise, apparate to my parents' house for tea, or join my friends in Diagon Alley. (Conveniently, every time I did the latter, Ron was either too sick, too tired, too far behind on his chores, or simply couldn't be bothered to come.) After returning from whichever endeavor I had chosen, I would enjoy a peaceful dinner with Damon, Lennie, Blaise, and occasionally one or two of Blaise's friends—never Malfoy, thankfully, for he was not due to return until later this evening. Following dinner, I would read my latest choice of fiction in the silent company of Damon, and then head off to bed to repeat the process all over again in the morning.

On this particular day, I had chosen to meet Harry and Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron and we were going to visit Fred and George at work. Afterwards, instead of returning home for dinner, I would be eating at the Burrow with the rest of the Weasley's. This was part of a little plan orchestrated by Ginny to force Ron into my company. I had to laugh at the ingenious, scheming mind that was the sister of the legendary Hogwarts pranksters.

After seriously contemplating my clothing options, I put on a pair of light, faded jeans with a simple white blouse. I looped a simple belt through my jeans and donned a brown headband, letting my dark brown hair fall loosely down my back. Deciding to forgo heavy jewelry, I put on my silver heart-shaped earrings with a matching necklace. My style was simple, but my curly hair and tanned skin made it look elegant and classy.

As I was observing my mirror reflection, there was a knock on the door. Simultaneously, I felt the now-familiar light breeze in my mind that was a string of my brother's thoughts, '_Minny, It's Draco. He came home early and wants to "greet" you. I won't let him do anything stupid, but I can't promise that he won't say something dense to you._'

I rolled my eyes, even though Blaise couldn't see me, '_Please, I can handle him._'

There was another knock and I cursed to myself. Merlin, I swear if he says anything to antagonize me, I will blow his arrogant, self-righteous arse into kingdom come. I crossed the room and reached the door just as Malfoy rapped his knuckles on it once more.

I opened the door to see him standing in front of me, smirking smugly. Blaise was leaning in his bedroom doorway, looking at me apologetically.

"Miss me?" Malfoy asked.

"Only whenever I felt like letting out some steam," I retorted. "Are we finished here? Because I have some place to be."

"On your hands and knees in front of me?" he smirked malevolently, bringing his hand to lightly touch my face.

Tingly feelings erupting down my spine aside, I grabbed his wrist and twisted it, while my other hand drew my wand and pointed it at a very—well, sensitive place. Holding his hand by his side, I leaned in and stood on my toes so that my mouth was hovering near his ear. Ignoring his agonized expression, I whispered, "Only in your dreams, Draco Malfoy."

With that, I stepped back and closed the door as his eyebrows raised in shock—perhaps because he had actually enjoyed that, judging by the bulge in his pants.

"Fuck you, Mudblood!" He yelled at the closed door.

"I'm sure you'd like to, Malfoy," I called back.

Hearing an angry growl and the sound of the door across the hall slamming shut, I was satisfied that he had left. I ran into my bathroom and soaked the hand that had held Malfoy's under warm water. If it disgusted me to know that, for a moment, I had actually enjoyed the feel of his hand on my face, then it horrified me to no avail that being that close to him caused me immeasurable pleasure. Merlin, I wish there was a way to scrub my contaminated mind.

Noticing the red that had appeared on my hand from my incessant scrubbing, I turned the water off and left the bathroom. With one last glance in the mirror, I fluffed my hair a little and walked out of my bedroom. I told Lennie, who was in the living room reading ­_Witch Weekly_, that I was leaving and that I would be back after dinner, before emerging in the crisp afternoon air and apparating so that I was standing in an alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron where Ginny and I had planned to meet. Yes, I am aware that this happens to be number one on the list of stupid things to do.

Almost immediately, I felt strong arms wrap themselves around me; one on my waist and one cupping my mouth. Fortunately, my attacker was not of the intelligent sort, and forgot to make sure my arms were secure. My right hand moved instinctively to my wand and my left came up to his head, seeking a lock of hair and yanking with all the strength I could muster. He yelped in pain and I felt him back off, enough so that I could spin around and aim my wand in his freckled face. I gasped, dropped my wand, and slapped him.

"Ronald Weasley!" I shouted angrily, picking up my wand. "What the name of Merlin possessed you to do that? You frightened me!"

"Well, at least now I know you can defend yourself," he said, still holding the spot on his scalp that I had wrenched his flaming red hair from. A wave of victory flooded through me when he rubbed it and winced in pain. Serves him right.

"Obviously," I said, my voice still shaking with rage. "You've known me since first year, and have only just noticed that I can fight back? I think I should take offense to that."

"I apologize," he said bitterly.

"Sure, but you don't mean it, do you?" I retorted, this time slightly hurt. "And you still haven't answered my first question: Why did you try to accost me in an alleyway in the middle of London?"

"I wasn't trying to accost you, Mione," he said defensively. "This was just the only way I could get you to talk to me, as you've been ignoring me."

"What _are_ you going on about?" I asked, bewildered. "You're the one who walked away like the stubborn prat you are and haven't written to me since. You're the one who comes up with an excuse everytime Harry, Ginny, and I go out. No, Ron, I am not ignoring you, _you_ are ignoring _me_."

"That's not true," he argued. "Every time you three went out I really was busy, honestly."

"Oh, yes," I said, rolling my eyes. "You are right; having to count the twigs on your broomstick is a legitimate excuse. I apologize for thinking that making amends with a friend that you hardly see holds priority over your Quidditch equipment."

"Fine, Hermione, I have been avoiding you," he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender. "Forgive me for not wanting to spend time with someone who completely lied to me by omission. Hermione, do you know how hard the concept of you being a Zabini is to grasp?"

"No, Ronald, why don't you enlighten me?" I asked sarcastically.

"I just mean that you have always been Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born bookworm, and now all of the sudden you are a pureblooded Zabini," he said. "It's like I don't know you anymore."

"I am insulted that you think that my _blood_ and my _surname_ define my character," I seethed, so enraged that I was surprised he wasn't burning under my glare. "Just because I am now a Pureblood and a Zabini, does not mean that I have changed. If you refuse to see that, then you have grinded any ounce of respect that I held for you into the ground beneath your feet. I cannot believe that _you_ of all people, would hold my _blood_ against me. You are no better than Malfoy."

"Mione, I didn't mean it like that," he begged. "I just meant that it's different, is all. _You_ aren't different, _things_ are different."

"How so?" I asked. "How does me having Pureblood roots make anything different? Granted, I am living with new people in a new house and a completely different society, but those things don't concern you."

"That's just it though," he said. "They do concern me. Anything that concerns you, concerns me, as well. You are my best friend, Mione."

"Well, would it hurt to show it every once in a while?" I said, now feeling my eyes well up with tears. No, I am supposed to be angry not upset, besides the fact that this is not even the issue at hand. I moved to wipe my eyes of the offending wetness, when Ron wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

"Mione, I cannot really explain exactly why this is affecting me so much," he began, "but believe me, I never meant to hurt you. I just needed some time to get around it."

"Well, I hope you have had enough time, because that is all the time I will allow myself to give you," I said, my tone still harsh. He nodded and I continued, "Good. I am meeting Harry and Ginny here soon, and you are welcome to join us, unless you have another broom that needs tending to."

Ron burst into a fit of laughter, while I looked on as if he had sprouted three more legs.

"Ron?"

He looked at me with pure mirth in his eyes, clutching his stomach and bending over.

"Ron!" I put my arm on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. "What is so funny?"

"It's just—I just—You thought—Ginny—she never—I wrote—the letter—"

He couldn't continue due to the fact that he was now literally rolling on the ground with laughter. Though, with my amazing deduction skills, once again Hermione Know-It-All Granger put twoand two together and figured it out.

"Ron, you git!" I shouted, though now I was also laughing a bit. "Ginny never told me to meet here, it was you!"

He nodded, tears leaking from his eyes in amusement.

"Well, it isn't that funny," I told him with bewilderment.

Ron took a few large breaths and sighed, sitting up and wiping his eyes.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Ronald Weasley, sidekick and dummy extraordinaire, was able to trick the brilliant Hermione Granger. I thought you would have figured it out the minute I—what was it? Oh, yes—'accosted' you."

"Well, to be honest, I had more important things on my mind," I reasoned. "Why did you have to trick me into coming here in the first place? You obviously knew that I wanted to see you, because you suggested the plan to get us to talk."

"Honestly, I was afraid that if I simply asked you to meet me here, you would bring Blaise and Malfoy along," he said, standing up and shrugging his shoulders as if it was obvious.

"I would not have!" I said defensively.

He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows at me.

"Alright, I would have asked Blaise to come with me," I admitted. "But if you think I would invite Malfoy anywhere, then you really do not know me."

He merely shrugged and looked down at his feet.

"I really am sorry, Mione," he said, gaze still lowered at the ground.

"I suppose I understand," I said. "I mean, I still haven't even gotten used to being a Zabini, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not quite sure if I ever will. I guess I'm not surprised that you aren't used to it either, but I just wish you could support me and be there for me. I really need Harry's and your friendship right now. Everything seems to be changing and I would hardly be able to stand it if our relationship changed as well."

At this he looked up at me, and nodded

"It won't" he said. "I will never stop being your friend, Hermione."

"Promise?" I asked. "Will you look me in the eyes and promise me that our friendship will not change after this?"

He looked me in the eyes and said, "I promise our friendship will never change. Although, I cannot promise that we will never argue again."

"Thank you," I said, sighing with relief. I wrapped my arms around him and he hugged me gently.

"Let's go," he said. "Harry wanted me to bring you back to the Burrow to play a game of Quidditch."

"Harry was in on this?" I asked incredulously.

"And Ginny, she was the one who gave me the idea. I'm not exactly smart when it comes to this sort of thing, remember?"

I smiled and nodded my head. He looked at me with mock hurt and I rolled my eyes.

"Come on," I said, and apparated to the Burrow, Ron appearing seconds later at my side.

Blaise:

"Draco, you are being absolutely ridiculous," I said for what felt like the hundredth time. "You don't hate her; if you did we wouldn't be here, twenty minutes later, still discussing the matter. If you really hated her you would have said as much, shrugged it off, and moved on. The fact that you are still going on about her nerve and 'where she comes off doing something like that' only goes to show that you care about the girl enough to pursue the subject. If you want my honest opinion, I think that you are starting to have feelings for her, and just the thought of that is driving your little bigotry-driven mind insane."

"I do _not_ have feelings for a _Mudblood_!" Draco said. He shot me a look of pure death as if daring me to question him. Of course, Blaise Zabini can never refuse a good dare.

"First of all, she is no longer a Mudblood, as we have gone over approximately thirty times now," I said calmly. "Secondly, you have just proven my point. And thirdly, denial is one of your worst weaknesses. While you sit there and deny any sort of feeling you have toward Minny, the hundreds of guys who have already realized theirs are out pursuing her. You could lose a bloody excellent opportunity here."

"Are you _trying_ to set me up with your sister?" He said, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Don't brothers normally warn their best friends against them?"

"Well, yes," I said. "But as I have already recognized your desire for her, I have already had time to get over it. I have also decided that my sister is intelligent enough to decide for herself who she likes, or in some cases—your's, for example—doesn't like. I am merely telling you that a girl like Hermione may be hard to come by, and you shouldn't waste your time in denial."

"Fine, Blaise," he said, wincing. "As much as it pains me to say this, I think I am starting to maybe have some sort of feelings toward her. For the love of Salazar, all week I couldn't stop thinking about her, and the minute I got back I wanted to come over here and see her. I thought, at the time, it was because of how much I loved to torment her."

"You mean to tell me, you only came over here to see my sister, not to spend quality time with your best friend?" I said, sarcastically hurt.

He aimed his wand at a pillow and sent it flying into my head.

"I think I hate her even more though," he said. "You know, because I like her. I shouldn't like her; it goes against every law of the universe, not to mention everything my father taught me. That fucking Mudblood bookworm has to go and make me fall for her."

"Draco, she's not—"

"A Mudblood. I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "That still doesn't change the fact that I hate her. For all I care, she can go fuck St. Potter and Fire-Crotch Weasley—at the same time, mind you."

"You would care, quite a lot actually. And technically speaking, a Saint is a baptized Christian who follows God, and although I don't really know much about Potter's religious background, I'm sure he doesn't fall under said category, so calling him St. Potter would be politically incorrect," I said.

He cocked his eyes at me and said, "I think Granger's rubbing off on you, mate."

I rolled my eyes and looked at the clock on my nightstand.

"Come on, Ron never gave us a fixed time and Mum needs help setting up."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the delay, the last couple of weeks of the semester were HELL, no lie. BUT, they are over, and I am now on a three week break! Thank God. So hopefully, there won't be as much of a wait between the next couple of chapters. Anyway, I don't really believe in an out of character Ginny, because her character was never completely defined in the series. So really, when it comes to Ginny, I think you just have to take what you've got and be creative. However, if you think she is out of character, let me know and tell me how to fix it. **

Hermione:

Ground! Thank sweet Merlin! If there was no one else around who would think that I had gone absolutely nutters, I would bend over and kiss you! Hermione Granger can do many things, but flying is just not one of them.

Instead of kissing the wet grass like some deranged lunatic, I collapsed in a heap on my back, Fred's broomstick falling out of my grasp in the process and landing a few inches away from me. Harry and Ron landed smoothly next to me, and laughed at my idiocy. Hey, it is not really something that they get to do all too often, so might as well let them enjoy it.

"You know, flying really isn't all that bad," Harry said.

"Speak for yourself, Superman," I bit back, breathing in deeply to calm myself.

"Superman?" Ron asked with bewilderment.

"He's a Muggle comic book hero who is famous for his supernatural ability to fly," I replied. "Anyway, flying is second nature to you two, so of course you don't think it's 'all that bad.' I have a hard enough time keeping my equilibrium on foot, let alone in the air."

"You only don't like it because you can't learn how to do it in a book," Ron laughed.

"Believe me, I've tried," I said, motioning for them to help me up. They each took one of my hands and pulled me into a standing position. "Thanks."

Ron took his and Fred's broomsticks and deposited them in the broom shed, before we trudged back toward his crooked house. You would never think that such a house could be so cherished, but this was my favorite place outside of Hogwarts to be. Harry reached the door first, and held it open so that Ron and I could pass through. We collapsed at the table, where Mrs. Weasley had already set out a pitcher of chilled pumpkin juice and three glasses.

Ginny came bounding down the stairs, a wide smile plastered on her freckled face. She got herself a glass and sat down next to Harry, motioning for him to pass her the pumpkin juice. After filling her own glass, she sighed, as if announcing her already-noted presence.

"Had a nice game?" she asked, before taking a sip from her glass.

"Well, it wasn't much of a game, as we only had three people," Ron said. "Honestly, you could have joined us."

"Mum told me that I was not allowed to leave my room until I finished my school work," Ginny said. "She was a little upset that I had put it off for so long."

"You've finished, then?" I asked.

"Technically, no," she said, glancing around to see if her mother heard. "I just needed a break."

"You'd better hurry up before Mum sees you down here," Ron warned. "She'd have your arse."

"I just have one more essay left," Ginny said, waving her hand nonchalantly. "I'm a little lost on it though. Hermione, do you think you could help me?"

"Of course, Gin," I said, nodding reassuringly. "Just let me finish this glass. You two don't mind, do you?"

"Nah, I think Ron and I can survive without you for a while," Harry joked.

"Fine," I said, pretending to be offended. "You guys can go off and do Merlin-knows-what with your little wands. And I don't mean the wooden ones."

I winked and stood from the table, Ginny following me up the stairs and laughing the entire way.

"That was brilliant! 'Little wands!'" Ginny laughed. "Honestly, I can just picture my brother's red face."

I allowed Ginny to laugh it out for a bit longer, until she finally settled on her bed and pulled out a set of parchment.

"So what's it like living with Blaise?" she asked.

"A little weird, but I'm getting used to it," I said, honestly.

"Are they rich?"

"Ginny!"

"Well, are they? It never hurts to have a rich family."

"Yes, they are quite wealthy, but I don't see how that is relevant."

"Oh, come off it," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You know as well as I do that it would be a lot worse if they were poor. The extra money is like a cushion, softening your fall."

"I suppose it is nice," I said, unable to hide my smile.

"What about Malfoy? Do you see him a lot?"

"Unfortunately," I sighed.

"I'm jealous."

"Why?"

"Have you seen him?" Ginny said, raising her eyebrows at me. "He's bloody gorgeous! And I apologize if this makes you feel awkward, but Blaise is even better."

"Well, I don't care how he looks, he's still a prat," I said.

"Oh, that's just childish prejudices," Ginny said dismissively. "He'll grow out of it. Now that the war's over, blood really isn't as important anymore and bigotry will get you no where. Once he realizes that, things will change. You know how Malfoy's are, always aiming to please the people in high places. Well, Pureblood mania is no longer attractive to those people, so they won't show it as much. Besides, you _are_ a Pureblood now, so he can't even hold _that_ against you."

"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that he is an arrogant arse," I said. "He still hates me and misses no opportunity to show it. And believe me, the feeling is mutual."

"If you insist," Ginny said, not quite believing me. "Anway, let's get this done."

We spent about an hour on Ginny's essay, so that by the time we were done the sun had set and my stomach was grumbling.

"I should go, I told Lennie that I was eating here, so I have to get home before she tells the house elves how many to cook for."

"House elves?" Ginny asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"I know, and I hate it," I said. "But there isn't much I can do about it now. Maybe, after a while, I can convince Lennie to pay them."

Ginny laughed.

"Hey, I want to see your new place," she said. "Can I come with you?"

She curled her bottom lip and pouted at me, so I rolled my eyes and nodded.

"Great," she said. "Let me just freshen up a bit."

"Who are you trying to impress?" I said, lifting an eyebrow at her.

"Well, since Blaise is your brother, I figured you can take Draco," she said, quite seriously. "I'll take Blaise."

After she had finished we walked out of her room and down the stairs through the surprisingly empty Burrow.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Who knows?" Ginny said. "Ron and Harry probably took your advice and are off professing their love for each other."

"I really don't want to think about that, thanks," I laughed as we stepped out into the warm summer night air. I grabbed her arm and Apparated just outside of the expansive house. Everything was dark and a little eerie, so I quickly ushered her inside. To my surprise, the inside was dark as well. I took out my wand and ignited its tip, using it to guide me into the living room.

"Why is everything so dark?" Ginny asked.

I could only make out her silhouette beside me, so I squinted to see her face. A minute later however, the room lit up and people were jumping out at me and screaming, "Surprise!"

I was so shocked that I jumped backwards and tripped over a step that I had not even noticed was there, falling on my bum and cringing in pain and embarrassment. The room around me was filled with people; the Zabini's, the entire Weasley clan, a couple of my year-mates from Hogwarts, and a few members of the Order. To my great displeasure, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were there, and to my immense _pleasure_, so were my parents.

On one wall a huge banner was hung, displaying the words "Congratulations, Hermione!" in large, bold letters that changed from red to gold and back again continuously. There were red and gold balloons scattered on the ceiling and streamers everywhere. I smiled as Harry and Ron, for the second time that day, helped me to my feet.

"You're right," Ron said, "absolutely no sense of equilibrium."

"Very funny," I said, as people started hugging me and patting me on the back. I gave my adoptive parents a hug before approaching Lennie and Damon.

"Thanks," I said, giving them each a hug. "This means a lot to me."

"It was our pleasure, Minny," Lennie said. "We are so proud of you; it was the least we could do."

Damon nodded in agreement and I smiled at them, as Blaise came up and hugged me.

"I hope you don't think that no one cares enough to celebrate anymore," Blaise said quietly, leading me away from Lennie and Damon to the couch where everyone was now gathered.

"Damn twin telepathy," I groaned.

"Twin telepathy?" Draco asked, as Blaise and I sat down across from him.

"Never mind, Malfoy," I said.

"Never did, Granger," he retorted.

"Oh, very clever."

"I thought so," he said. "Anyway, congrats. I wonder who Head Boy is?"

"I don't know, Malfoy," I said. "Some incompetent prick with no real friends, I'm sure."

"You told her it was me?!" Malfoy asked, glaring at Blaise incredulously.

"I never said I was talking about you," I said, laughing. "Though, that does clear things up quite a bit."

Blaise laughed, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Fuck off, Mud," he said, sitting back and folding his arms across his well-defined chest, causing the muscles of his forearm to contra— _**[NOTE TO EDITOR: PLEASE EDIT THIS SENTENCE OUT! I had a momentary lapse of sanity and did NOT mean to say that! Oh, Merlin, WHY am I thinking about his MUSCLES?... Sorry, back to my story.**_

"Minny?" Blaise said, bringing me out of my trance. "You alright? You look like you just saw Snape naked."

Malfoy burst into a fit of undignified laughter, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.

"I'm fine," I said, shaking my head and sighing.

"Oh, excellent," said Malfoy, who had controlled himself and was now smirking up at Ron and Harry. "Harry Potter's here! Hurry, Potty, the Dementors are going to suck out our souls! Use your wand and think of Weasel's two-inches up your ass to get rid of them for us!"

Three pairs of eyes shot daggers at Malfoy.

"Go find yourself a dog to fuck, Malfoy," Ron said. "I'm sure Pansy will be willing to accommodate you."

"Oh, the Weasel's cranky," Malfoy laughed. "Pothead been holding off on you? A little sexually frustrated?"

"Oh, shut up, the both of you," I said, sending Malfoy a death-glare. "I really don't need you two arguing like immature children. Harry, Ron, please sit down and ignore the prat."

"Well, we actually came over to apologize to Blaise," Harry said, nudging Ron, who merely nodded, still red-faced and glaring at Malfoy. "We're sorry for our attidude towards you, and we hope that you can forgive us."

"Ah, there's the Potter I know," Malfoy said. "Always the bigger man, eh Weasley?"

"Shut up, mate," Blaise said, much to all of our surprise. "Thanks, Potter. It means a lot, and I'm sure you just made Hermione's night."

I smiled and nodded.

"Blaise, I think your dick just shrank," Draco said, mouth still agape in shock. "You're becoming one of them."

"Honestly, Draco, this is not the right time to act like an arse," Blaise said. "We're here to celebrate for Minny, and you acting like a prick to her friends doesn't exactly scream, 'congrats.'"

Malfoy just continued to stare at him as if he had daisies sprouting from his ears.

'_Thanks, Blaise,_' I thought, smiling at him gratefully as Harry and Ron bid us goodbye. '_Malfoy looks like he wants to light your backside on fire._'

'_Don't worry about it,_' he shrugged. '_He'll get over it._'

'_I just don't get why he has to be such an arse_,' I thought, sighing sadly.

'_It's just the way he is,_' Blaise thought. '_Actually, I think the reason is because he sort of has a thi—_'

"'Mione!" came a voice from behind us, interrupting Blaise's thought. Ginny came and sat down next to me, beaming at me and wiggling her eyebrows.

"Hey, Gin," I said. I turned back to Blaise, '_What were you saying?_'

'_Nevermind,_' he thought, eyeing Ginny curiously. '_Introduce me to your friend._'

I raised my eyebrows at him, as Ginny cleared her throat, discreetly nudging my elbow.

"Oh—er—Blaise, this is my friend, Ginny Weasley—"

"Little Red?" Draco said, finally removing his glare from Blaise to look at Ginny.

"No, that's my brother's name, if you get what I'm saying," Ginny smiled, apparently unfazed by the dirty look Malfoy was giving her.

Blaise and I both laughed.

"I like this girl," Blaise said.

"How come she can insult Weasel's size and it's funny, yet when I do it, I get chastised by my best friend?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"One: because she's his sister," I said. "And two: because you said it maliciously, while she means it purely as a joke."

"And because I'm prettier than you," Ginny added, kissing the air.

"I concur," Blaise said, smiling at Ginny, who blushed and gave him a small smile back, while Malfoy rolled his eyes.

'_Minny, do you think you and Draco can give us some privacy?_' Blaise asked, still smiling at Ginny.

'_And how exactly do you expect me to get Malfoy's stubborn arse to leave?_' I asked skeptically.

'_I don't know, but I have a feeling he'll leave with you, he looks a little too grossed out to be here without you._'

Looking at Malfoy, it was true that he looked close to throwing up at the exchange between Ginny and Blaise.

'_You owe me for this._'

"I'm a bit thirsty, I think I'll go get some punch," I said, smiling at Ginny. "Er-Malfoy, care to join me?"

"Well, considering my only option is being stuck here, by myself, with these two," he said, nodding his head in their direction. "I would love to join you."

I was a bit taken aback by his polite response, but nodded nevertheless and led him to the table that held the punch bowl.

"So, in all honesty, did you know that I was Head Boy?" Malfoy said, in a surprisingly nice tone.

"Yes, Blaise told me three days ago," I answered, "although, I had already suspected as much. Sorry I ruined your surprise."

"You should be, I was looking forward to seeing your face," he said, regaining a bit of his malice. "I'm sure that you are also aware that we will be sharing a common room, does that make you nervous?"

"Yes, I am aware that we will be sharing a common room," I said. "I am also aware that we are each allowed to have up to four pre-approved guests before eight o'clock P.M. on weekdays, and ten o'clock P.M. on weekends. Also on weekends, two pre-approved guests of the same gender may spend the night in our dormitories, and up to three pre-approved guests between the two of us of any gender in the common room. On top of all of this, we supposedly have a twenty-four hour live-in chaperone who only reveals himself or herself to the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, the Head Boy and Girl, and their guests, for security reasons. So, the answer to your second question is no, it does not make me in the least bit nervous."

"How'd you find all that out?" Malfoy asked, surprised at my knowledge.

"I've known since my first year," I answered. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"Shame," he said, "I guess we won't be alone long enough to get you to sleep with me."

**A/N (Only because it won't really fit at the end of the chapter and I really, _really _want to; I promise I will never do another a/n in the middle of a chapter again!): haha, cliffhanger! The world's greatest literary sales pitch! Cliffhangers are like pedestrians: when you _are_ one, you find it amusing to piss off drivers, just because you can; when you are the driver, you want to run over them and yell, "Who's laughing now, bitch?"... ok, read on...**

Blaise:

I had to admit, Ginny Weasley has me intrigued. I have never known a girl with such a sense of humor. Besides the fact that she's confident; not arrogant, like Draco, but confident. I have never met any of the other Weasleys, although Fred and George are legendary pranksters, so I'm sure she takes after them. More than Ron, anyway.

"So, you play Quidditch, right?" I asked her.

"Yes, I'm a chaser," she replied. "You don't?"

"Nah, I'm more of a spectator."

"You really are Hermione Granger's twin brother, aren't you?" she laughed.

"No, I'm Hermione Zabini's twin brother," I answered.

"Right," she said, somewhat awkwardly, cheeks flushing in embarassment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarass you," I said.

"No, it's alright, just not used to it, I guess," she smiled.

"Join the club, we have pins," I smiled back.

"I only join clubs with t-shirts," she answered. "So if you don't, then I am afraid I have to refuse."

'_Blaise Zabini, you owe me _big'

"Oh, no," I sighed.

"What?" Ginny asked, confused.

"I think--" I looked up and saw Hermione glaring at me as she stormed out the door, Malfoy standing by the table holding his face, yet smirking smugly. "Minny."

"You take Malfoy, I got Hermione; judging by the look she gave you, I don't think your her best friend right now," Ginny said, smiling at me and following Hermione out the door.

So, she's smart, too.

**See the blue drop down on the bottom left-hand corner of your screen? Well, one of the options is review, and if you press the small rectangular button to the right of that, it will lead you straight to a shiny new blank page where you can write whatever you thought about this chapter. And then, you submit it and just like that, you have just given me an amazing Christmas present and spent $ZERO on it. See, I'm saving you money. :D.**

**Merry Christmas, Happy Chanuka (sorry if I butchered the spelling of that!), Happy Kwanza (again.. sorry for the spelling), and Happy Holidays!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: you all probably hate me for the wait. Well, here it is, and they are finally going back to Hogwarts! I know it kind of took long, but in my defense it took JKR like eleven chapters (or something close to that) in OOTP to get to Hogwarts. Anyway, read it and let me know what you think. There's not a whole lot going on this chapter, it's more of a filler, but a long filler. Whatever, just read.**

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"_How'd you find all that out?" Malfoy asked, surprised at my knowledge._

"_I've known since my first year," I answered. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."_

"_Shame," he said, "all that will make it harder to get you to sleep with me."_

It was as if the rest of the conversation—Malfoy's politeness and civility—never happened. One minute I was actually beginning to think that some sort of twisted friendship, for lack of a better word, could actually form between the two of us, and the next minute he had to go all haughty-and-perverted-son-of-a-hag on me and I was slapping him pure across the face for the second time in all the years that I have known him—although, believe me, I've dreamed about doing it more than a couple hundred times.

He looked down at me smugly; one hand rising to hold the side of his face that was now christened with the red silhouette of my hand as I dropped my voice to a dangerous whisper.

"I could get more satisfaction from a toothbrush than you would ever be able to give me, Draco Malfoy."

Without waiting for the snide remark that I was sure was aimed in my direction, I turned and practically ran out the door, glaring my dear brother the entire way, letting him know that I was in no way happy with him for leaving me alone with Malfoy.

I opened the door, oblivious to the fact that almost every head was turned in my direction and stepped out into the night, shaking off the tingling sensation in my stomach that I had only just realized was there. I might have known why it was there, but if I did there was no way that I would have ever admitted it.

I heard the door open behind me and was about to tell Blaise off when a much smaller hand than expected came to rest on my shoulder. I turned to find Ginny, who was raising her eyebrows at me in a silent question.

"Oh, it was just Malfoy being a prick, is all," I said, waving it off with my hand.

"What did he say, then?"

"He just made some smart-ass comment propositioning me and I didn't stand for it."

"So what did you do?" Ginny asked, a knowing smirk plastered on her face.

"Slapped him, of course," I laughed.

"That's my girl," Ginny smiled. "There's something that I don't quite understand, though."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you see, I seem to remember Malfoy saying much nastier things to you in years past. I can even recall you telling me of something he said to you earlier today of the same nature. And yet, those times—with the exception of the time in your third year—you never once lowered yourself to slapping him, no matter how much we all knew you wanted to. So, what was it this time that made you snap?"

"I don't know, Gin, pent up frustration maybe?" I said, thoroughly bewildered at what she was playing at.

"Perhaps, but I think that you are trying to deny the real reason why what he said got to you," Ginny said cautiously, as if afraid I would hex her into a million pieces for even suggesting such a thing—which in all honesty, I was contemplating doing exactly that.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I said instead, opting for the "playing dumb" route instead.

"See, there's that denial again," she said, smiling to let me know she was teasing.

"Alright, so what is this 'reason' that I am supposedly trying to deny?"

"Maybe what he said has affected you so much this time, because you have developed feelings for him."

"I'm not sure I follow," I said, fearing that the increase in my heart rate would give me away. "First of all, I have not developed any sort of feelings for that arrogant bastard, unless you count an increase in my level of hatred towards him. And secondly, how would developing feelings for him cause me to be affected by his sexual innuendos?"

"Well—and this is all hypothetical, mind you—maybe if you, let's say, _fancy_ Malfoy, his sexual comments would affect you a lot more because you may actually be feeling the desire to follow through with said comments, and the thought that he can so easily joke about it makes you feel as though there is absolutely no chance for it to actually happen, so you feel rejected."

"So, you're saying that I reacted the way I did because I felt rejected by him?" I scoffed.

"No, that was all hypothetical, remember?" Ginny said. "I'm saying that _if_ you fancy Malfoy, then that scenario is a definite possibility. However, you have already made it clear that you have no feelings whatsoever for him, so perhaps you've just gone a bit nutters."

She winked and turned to walk back inside, before adding:

"Oh, and don't be mad at Blaise, he just wanted to be alone with me. For obvious reasons, really."

With that I was alone and left to think over the words that Ginny had said. After about thirty seconds, I started laughing. It was preposterous to even contemplate that I had any sort of romantic feelings for Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret. I have, do, and always will, loathe him for all of eternity. I am Hermione Granger and he is Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. It is our destiny to be enemies. He is arrogant, pompous, slimy, spoiled, ru—so this is where the proverbial light bulb clicks on, announcing the sudden realization of my hypocrisy; an epiphany, if you will.

I have known Malfoy for six years, but I have never really _known_ him. True, I have seen him act like a complete arse on multiple occasions, and have been on the receiving end of plenty of his condescending insults. I have not, however, gotten to know the man behind the prejudiced front he displays. I have always just assumed that his interior was as cold and heartless as his exterior suggested, simply because he was the epitome of Pureblood pride, making me just as prejudiced as he was and, in turn, a hypocrite.

_Oh, Merlin, I am a filthy hypocrite!_, I thought, rubbing my eyes as this revelation echoed throughout my head. I was so caught up in my reverie and self-pity, that I didn't notice the door opening and closing softly behind me and an arm wrapping around my shoulder.

'_You are not a hypocrite, Minny._'

"Oh!" I cried, startled. My hands moved from my eyes to my heart, and I looked up to see Blaise.

"What makes you think you are a hypocrite?" he asked. "I talked to Draco and think he thoroughly deserved that slap, so I don't see why you have come to that conclusion."

"It's something Ginny said," I said evasively.

"Care to elaborate?"

"No." I can admit to myself when I am wrong easily enough, but admitting so to someone else is a horse of a different color.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"No," I sighed, smiling at him.

"Want to come back in?"

"Do you always talk through questions?"

"Does it bother you?"

"Do you want me to hex you?"

"Would you really do that?"

"Would you like to find out?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"What would you do if I was?"

"Do you really want to go there?"

"Are you afraid I'll beat you?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"I hate to break up this little game that I'm sure could have gone on forever," a voice drawled from the doorway, "but I'm afraid Lennie has asked me to come out and retrieve the two of you for dinner."

We both turned and I made a face at the pale blond, pointy faced bastard that stood in the doorway. Yes, I realize that I just had an epiphany that should make me want to be the bigger person and get to know him before I hate him, but it is going to take some time. For now, I will remain convinced that he is egotistical snoot until he proves otherwise.

"Shove off," I said as I brushed past him none too gently.

"Granger," he said, grabbing my arm so that I was forced to turn back and look at him. For a moment I thought he was going to hex me or something, until his face softened and he seemed to be incapable of words. Interesting, it would seem that Malfoy has some internal battle going on. When his pale cheeks began turning scarlet, I realized that his intention was to apologize to me.

"Don't worry about it, Malfoy," I said, and his eyes flooded with the relief of not actually having to say those two words that any simpleton could have easily strung together.

My stomach grumbled a little too audibly for my liking, causing both Blaise and Malfoy to laugh.

"I see that I had impeccable timing," Malfoy said, "judging by that undignified clamor you just made."

"What, like you've never done it?" I asked indignantly.

"Not like we had a troll residing in our stomachs," Blaise said.

I rolled my eyes and led them back inside, my stomach still grumbling, but low enough that the other two could not hear it.

The living room was no longer crowded with people, so I figured they had all gone to the dining room for dinner. Wondering how on earth so many people could fit at such a small table, I turned down the hallway that would open up to the dining room, but was stopped by a hand grabbing my arm.

"Not in there, Minny," Blaise said, pulling me to a set of doors that I had never been through.

I gasped as I took in the room before me. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the vast countryside. The room was not so much large—though large it was—as it was elegant, which made it appear far grander than the size would suggest. There was one long table that could seat about thirty people, and there was indeed about thirty people sitting around it. The floor dropped about three feet on the other side of the table, and two staircases on either end led to a small dance floor. The walls were the same gold that the rest of the house was done in, and the lack of ivory added to the extravagance of the room. Just being in the room made me feel ridiculously underdressed, and I found comfort in knowing that nobody else had dressed up.

"This is the master dining room," Blaise said. "We hardly ever use it, only when we have a large amount of guests. The table can easily be charmed to accommodate more people, but it isn't fitting for a small party. We normally just expand the other room a bit, but this is a special occasion."

"It's amazing," I said. "I feel as if I should be wearing a ball gown."

"It also serves as a ball room, and we've thrown plenty of balls in here, so I'm not surprised."

"Ah, there's our guest of honor!" Lennie said, hurrying over and ushering me to a seat in the middle of the table. My parents—the Grangers—were on one side of me, Harry and Ron on the other, and Ginny was directly across from me. Blaise and Malfoy sat down next to Ginny and Lennie moved to the seat on her other side, but did not sit down. "So before we start our dinner, I would just like to say that although I haven't known Hermione for very long, I have always loved her. I am proud to call this amazing young woman my daughter, and I know that her future is as bright as she is, which is saying quite a lot."

I could not help the blush that rose to my cheeks as she lifted her glass, motioning for the rest of the table to do so as well.

"To Hermione, may she always know that she is loved by many, and that she brings honor to this family and all who have the pleasure of knowing her."

"To Hermione," everyone chanted. My blush deepened as I smiled gratefully at them all.

Lennie sat, and a line of house elves came in carrying platters of deliciously smelling foods. The dinner was amazing, and was followed by a desert of lemon meringue pie and cheesecake: my favorites. Once everyone had eaten enough to cause the waistband of their pants to feel uncomfortably tight, Lennie rose once more.

"Well, I thank you all for coming to celebrate Minny's achievement," she said. "But I'm afraid the night has to end here, as nine of our number return to Hogwarts tomorrow morning."

There was a murmur of assent and the guests started getting to their feet. One by one, they all gave me hugs and left, so that soon only the Grangers, the Weasleys, Harry, and Malfoy were left. Mrs. Weasley gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Mr. Weasley also gave me a hug. Fred and George rumpled my hair and gave my shoulders a squeeze. Charlie, Bill, and Percy kissed my hand like the sort of gentlemen that would be completely unfitting for the twins to be. Harry and Ron both gave me hugs and promised to meet me at the platform the following morning. Ginny smirked as she gave me a hug and quietly thanked me for introducing her to Blaise. We walked them out the door and watched as they each disappeared, Ginny side-along Apparating with her mother.

I turned to the Gra—er, my parents, and gave them a hug goodbye, thanking them for coming, as a cab pulled up to take them home.

After everyone was gone I went back inside to find Blaise and Malfoy on the couch, looking utterly bored.

"Aren't you leaving, Malfoy?" I asked curiously.

"That keen on getting rid of me, eh?" he laughed, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well, then I am afraid that I have some bad news for you. See, my father and I got into a little row yesterday, and he kicked me out, so I'm staying here the night and going to King's Cross tomorrow with you lot."

"Such rapture," I said sarcastically. I looked at him curiously, the part of me that longs to know everything practically screaming at me to ask him what I so desperately wanted to ask. Fortunately, I am what some people would call intelligent, and I knew that asking him would be a mistake. Unfortunately, I held my gaze longer than I had intended and he noticed.

"I know you're curious, Granger," he smirked. "You won't be able to sleep tonight unless you get the knowledge that you thirst for. So go ahead, ask."

"I can't ask, that would be rude," I said shortly and moved to go upstairs to my room. Blaise was laughing at me and I shot him a glare, causing his mouth to clamp shut in a smirk.

"Stop being such a goody, Minny," Blaise said. "We both know it's killing you inside."

"It seems to me as if you both _want_ me to ask," I said, cocking an eyebrow. "Well, if that's the case, then I won't. Goodnight."

I walked up the stairs, shaking my head at their immaturity. They were right, the curiosity _was_ killing me, but hell if I give Malfoy the satisfaction of knowing that.

"If you aren't going to ask, I suppose I'll just tell you," Malfoy said to my back, and I gave into my interest and turned to face him. "My father and I got into an argument over Pansy. We had an arranged marriage, but her parents died in the war. He still wants me to marry her, but I told him that I could hardly stand her and would rather marry Millicent Bullstrode's cat."

You can imagine that I flinched, quite visibly, at that, but it thankfully went unnoticed.

"Really? I always thought you two were an item?"

"Oh we were—and are—but that doesn't mean I have to like her."

"I'm going to ignore the lunacy of that comment, because it's really none of my business," I said. "Though, why did you want me to ask? It obviously doesn't concern me."

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It was just amusing me to see you squirm."

"Right," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "Goodnight, Blaise. Ferret."

* * *

Blaise: 

"So why _did_ you want her to ask so badly?" I asked the blond still watching the staircase where Hermione had disappeared up minutes ago.

"You heard me, it was fun torturing her," he said, turning towards me.

"Sure, but that doesn't explain why you ended up telling her."

"Just drop it, mate. If you're thinking it has anything to do with what we talked about earlier, you can forget it, because I've dealt with that."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"My, aren't you curious," he said. "Just like your bloody sister."

I could tell he was getting angry and so decided to drop the subject before he got too upset.

* * *

The next morning we woke up early, finished packing and went down for breakfast. 

"Morning, Mum," I said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Good morning, is Minny up yet?" she asked.

"Yes, she's coming."

"Wait, we haven't seen her at all this morning," Draco asked, his brow creasing into a frown. "How would you know if she's up or not."

Inwardly cursing myself, I searched for an excuse. Thankfully, Hermione made her appearance right at that moment.

"Heard her coming," I smiled at her. _I almost slipped our secret_, I thought, giving her a guilty expression.

_As long as it was only an 'almost'_, she replied.

"Good morning," she said brightly, beaming around the room and sighing. "When are we leaving."

"After you've had a spot of breakfast," Mum told her.

"Hey, where are your badges?" I asked the two Heads, only just realizing that they had not donned them.

"We aren't supposed to put them on until we reach the platform," Minny said. "They have the Hogwarts crest, remember?"

"Right."

"Now, you two are both coming here for Christmas," Mum said. "Minny, last night I talked to Molly Weasley. Harry, Ron, and Ginny may spend the holidays with us, as well, and the rest of the Weasleys are coming on Christmas Eve."

Minny smiled and gave Mum a hug.

"Thank you for everything," she said. "I know that I wasn't exactly thrilled to come here, but I'm glad I did. I was reluctant to accept the fact that I was adopted, but I am no longer in denial. You are my mother, Damon is my father, and Blaise is my brother; there's no getting around that."

"I'm glad to here it," Mum said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing.

Draco gave feigned a sniff.

"How heartwarming."

Minny glared at him and sat down next to me to eat. Once we had finished, we gathered our things and apparated straight into Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The scarlet steam engine appeared before us and we moved toward it. Minny was searching around for her friends, and as if there was some sort of magnetic force, two red-heads and a raven-haired bespectacled boy appeared at her side. I smiled at the youngest of the three and watched with a sly grin as her cheeks flushed. Hermione looked back at me and smiled before leading her group of friends into the train and disappearing.

"Come on, Crabbe and Goyle should have saved a compartment," Malfoy said. We got onto the train and looked into compartments for our friends, when a voice made us stop dead in our tracks.

"Drakie!"

"Pansy," Draco groaned, seeing the dark-haired, pug-faced Slytherin drama queen poke her head out of a compartment up ahead.

"Drakie, we're all in here!"

"Quick, pretend we didn't see her," he said, pulling me through the nearest open door. I laughed as his expression worsened and he threw up his hands in exasperation. "Can you believe my luck?"

We had walked right into the compartment that Minny and all her friends had decided to occupy. Pothead and Weasel were glaring daggers at him, and the girls were both smiling at me.

"Well, you can either spend the trip in here, or in there with Parkinson," I said, smirking. "Your choice."

"I'll take here," he said as his eyes grew wide with horror. He recovered and smirked. "It looks like you all have company."

Harry and Ron both sent Hermione annoyed looks and left, probably to find another compartment, she shrugged and muttered something about immaturity.

Twenty minutes later and we found ourselves talking about Quidditch as the train moved steadily toward the castle.

"So, Potter's actually going to let you play?" Draco asked Ginny.

"Why wouldn't he? I fly better than everyone who shows up to those tryouts," she said indignantly.

"I'm not questioning your competence," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just picture girls who play Quidditch kind of burly, it doesn't exactly complement your feminism. All I'm saying is that normally female Quidditch players are gay."

"That's a riot!" Ginny laughed. "Quidditch players ride wooden shafts, grabbing at balls, and you say it's the females who are gay?"

"Touché," he said, "though, I can assure you that I am not of that orientation."

"Oh, bugger," Hermione said, looking at her watch. "We have to go to the Prefect's compartment to meet McGonagall."

Draco groaned as she got up to leave and reluctantly followed her.

"We'll catch up with you guys later," Minny said as she left, Draco on her tail. With a smile, I realized that their departure meant that I had the rest of the trip to spend alone with the mini-Weasel.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm quite proud of myself. Not as long of a wait _and_ a pretty lengthy chapter. Okay, so in all honesty, there are some pretty cliched things in this chapter, but I couldn't help it. If i was incredibly cliched, please tell me and I'll try to change them. By the way, I am a bit disappointed in the number of reviews that I got for the last chapter, but I guess there was not really a lot going on that would warrent a review, so the blame lies mostly with me. I hope this chapter is better.**

* * *

Hermione:

It was pathetic, really, how I could almost have told you everything that Professor McGonagall was going to say to us before she said it. But I could have. There is no denying it. I could have told you that she would lecture us on the importance of being role models for the rest of the students and, therefore, we should refrain from public displays of hatred. I could have also told you that she would leave it up to us to map out the patrolling schedules for the prefects and that we, ourselves, would have to patrol three days a week.

The fact that I could have told you all of this does not bother me, it is expected of me. Sure, other people would find it aggravating and would probably roll their eyes and scoff at me for it, but it does not unnerve me.

No, what bothers me is that Professor McGonagall informed us of something that I could not have told you beforehand. Usually, when a professor explains something that I did not already know, it never tends to bode well for me, and this was no exception.

"Now, I assume that you both know about your living conditions this year?" she asked us, and we both gave her a curt nod. "Good. Usually, we permit the Head Boy and Girl to have visitors within limited time frames. However, this privilege proved to provoke too many temptations for the Heads of the previous few years to manage, so this year, I am afraid, the Headmaster and I have made a few changes."

I fought to suppress the groan that longed to escape from my lips. I was looking forward to having visitors, not only for the pleasant company but also as an escape from solitude with Malfoy.

"Visitors will not be permitted on weekdays," she said sternly. "And no student, of any gender, may spend the night. On weekends, however, you are permitted to three visitors each until ten o'clock p.m."

I nodded, momentarily looking down at my hands to hide the disappointment that would surely shine through my eyes. Professor McGonagall dismissed us, and we both stood to leave.

"Miss Granger?" she said. "May I speak with you for one moment."

I looked at Malfoy, who smirked and left the compartment, before turning back to Professor McGonagall.

"Yes?"

"I am just concerned about leaving you alone with Mr. Malfoy," she said. "If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, you will come find me, won't you?"

"Yes, but I assure you that it won't be a problem," I said, slightly offended that she found no confidence in my ability to protect myself.

She just smiled knowingly at me and sent me on my way. I returned her smile, thanked her and left, making my way down the train in search of Harry and Ron.

While looking into one of the compartments, I bumped into something solid, and would have fallen to the ground if that something hadn't held onto my arm to stop me. I looked up into steel grey eyes and could feel my arm tingling under his hand. He let go of me as if I burned him and smirked.

"Having trouble walking, Granger?" Malfoy asked.

"No, I just wasn't paying attention," I said, not in the mood for an argument. "Why aren't you in a compartment, anyway?"

"Consider my options: return to our previous compartment, where your brother and red-haired friend are currently snogging each other senseless, or go to a compartment where I will be smothered by the attention of an extremely annoying and persistent witch who fancies herself my girlfriend."

Ignoring the shock I felt at the revelation that Blaise and Ginny had become that—er, close, I cocked my head at him.

"I thought Pansy _was_ your girlfriend," I said in confusion.

"What makes you assume I was speaking of Pansy?" he asked indignantly. I raised an eyebrow at him and he smirked. "Fine, I was speaking of Pansy. Yes, she is technically my girlfriend, but as I said yesterday, that doesn't mean I have to like her."

"You have a very twisted definition of the word 'girlfriend' then," I said.

"Perhaps, but I don't see how it is any of your concern," he said, mocking my response from the day before.

I shook my head exasperatedly and brushed past him.

"Where are you going?" he asked to my back.

"I don't see how that is any of _your_ concern, but I am going to find Harry and Ron," I said.

Malfoy groaned. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

"I don't know, it's not my problem."

"Merlin, Granger, please?"

"Did you just say please?" I asked, turning back to face him with an amused expression on my face. "You realize you're asking a Mudblood for help, right?"

"In my defense, technically you're no longer a Mudblood," he said.

"Oho, so what? Am I in your good graces now?" I asked, now becoming angry at his lack of tact.

"No, you only get the privilege of being a Pureblood when I am forced to ask you for help; it hurts my pride otherwise."

"You are daft if you think you are being any closer to earning said help than you were ten minutes ago. In fact, I rather think that you are now further from it; much, _much_ further."

"Come on, Granger," Malfoy groaned. "Just tell those two to cut it out so I can go in without feeling uncomfortable."

"No, I don't think I will," I said, rolling my eyes and walking away. I heard Malfoy growl in frustration and felt my anger pulsating towards him. Honestly, the _nerve_ of him. He will never grow out of his prejudices because it would likely deflate his overly enlarged ego. Who is Draco Malfoy if not superior to every other witch or wizard in Hogwarts? Where does he belong?

For one wild moment, I pictured Malfoy sitting alone in some dark corner, his blond head buried in his hands, alone and desperate for companionship. I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but then found myself wondering if deep down, that was how he truly felt.

Before I could further analyze the inner workings of the Ferret, I found the compartment I was looking for and slid inside.

"Hey 'Mione," Harry said from his seat beside Neville.

"Hey," I replied as I took the empty seat next to Ron.

"Bugger you had to stay longer at the meeting, 'Mione," Ron said sympathetically.

"It wasn't terrible," I said, but the three boys gave me a look that clearly told me they didn't believe me. I shrugged it off and let their conversation continue. It was not long until the talk of Quidditch became too much for me to bear and I tuned them out. It amazed me how they could spend so long talking about the bloody sport. Honestly, you would think the topic would be exhausted by now, but no, they always found something new to discuss. Sometimes I wished that they could pick up a book and hold a logical but heated debate about it. I laughed as a picture of Harry and Ron eloquently discussing Shakespeare came to mind, and shook it of, thinking of Blaise and Ginny instead. I had decided that they would be a perfect match for each other, but had a feeling that Ron would be less thrilled.

We reached Hogsmeade about an hour later, and all got into the same carriage. The ride to the castle made everything feel normal, and for a while I forgot the happenings of the past couple of weeks and reveled in the fact that I was home again. I sighed with content as we made our way through the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall where students were chatting amiably with friends that they hadn't seen in months.

I sat down next to Ron and subconsciously glanced up at the Slytherin table, where Blaise was watching the red-headed girl who was currently sitting down right next to me. He caught my gaze and winked, before turning to the blond next to him, who I was shocked to find was staring at me. Malfoy's eyes met mine for an infinitesimal moment, not giving me enough time to analyze it.

I nudged Ginny and winked at her as Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway, with a line of eleven-year-olds behind her.

"Had a good trip?" I asked her.

"Oh, it was lovely," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I laughed as the Sorting Ceremony began. Being the Head Girl and all, I tried to smile at the new Gryffindors as they sat down, but I only succeeded in making them shrink even lower in fear. Once every trembling young student was seated at their new House Table, Professor Dumbledore welcomed us and left us to our dinners.

The Welcoming Feast was, as always, delicious. If it were not for the constant conversations that I was having inside my head with my twin, or the smiles that passed between him and my friend, I may have believed that this year would be just like any other year. But alas, Blaise kept trying to talk to me from across the Great Hall, and Ginny was currently blushing from the sly grin that he aimed at her. This year would be very, very different.

After dinner ended, Professor Dumbledore stood and gave his annual speech, reminding us of the areas around the castle and certain artifacts that were banned, all the while looking pointedly at me and my two partners-in-crime—as if he thought that we would ever break school rules. Such scandal!

"I found that disappointing," Harry admitted. "There are no new places that are off-limits. Where's the mystery? The adventure?"

Ron and I laughed.

"You're right, mate," Ron said. "What is there to do around here if there is no hidden secret to discover?"

I rolled my eyes at the two and waved goodbye to my friends as everyone began to leave the Great Hall. Ron and Ginny, both prefects, made their way to lead the First Years to the Gryffindor tower. Professor McGonagall gestured to me over the sea of students and I pushed my way through the throng until I reached her, Malfoy appearing moments later at my side.

"This way, please," Professor McGonagall said and lead us up the stairs and out of the Entrance Hall. After a few minutes we arrived in front of a portrait of an ancient witch wearing a long silver gown who looked like a banshee having a bad hair day. "This is the portrait of Silvia the Silver Lady. She is the guardian of the Head Commons, and I expect you to be polite to her. I wouldn't want to be on her bad side," she added in an undertone.

"Good evening, Silvia," she said as kindly as she could. The portrait merely grunted and looked pointedly at Malfoy and me. "This is Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, this year's Head Boy and Girl."

"Lovely," Silvia said flatly. "Are you going to say the password already, or do you intend on continuing this conversation?"

Professor McGonagall merely smiled and said, "Pygmy puff."

"Pygmy puff?" Malfoy scoffed as the portrait door swung open. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"You may change it whenever you wish, as long as you inform each other when you do so."

We stepped into the common room and I looked around in wonder. It was a circular room, with a couch and two arm chairs gathered around a small coffee table in front of a small fireplace. There was a large alcove with a window that looked down over the grounds of Hogwarts and a cushioned window seat with two pillow cases. On either side of the alcove were two staircases that spiraled away from each other towards a balcony that had three doors. The most noticeable attribute to the room, however, was a very large portrait above the fireplace.

Professor McGonagall walked towards the fireplace and motioned for us to sit. Malfoy sat on the couch and I, not wanting to be anywhere closer to Malfoy than was absolutely necessary, sat in one of the armchairs. The man in the portrait looked to be about fifty, and though he was currently sleeping, I could tell that he was not one to cross. Professor McGonagall tapped the portrait and the man blinked his eyes a few times before opening them and studying us with interest.

"Good evening, Lord Phillip," she greeted. "I am sorry to have woken you."

"No matter, milady," he said, straightening up in his armchair. "Are these the new Heads?"

"Yes, this is Draco Malfoy of Slytherin and Hermione Granger of Gryffindor."

"Hmm, a lion and a serpent," he said thoughtfully. "I reckon I am in for an interesting year."

"I should hope not," she said, eyeing the both of us sternly. "This is your live-in chaperone, Lord Phillip. He has a portrait on the Headmaster's desk and on mine, should any issues arise. Therefore, I expect you both to act civilly towards each other."

"And there is, of course, the possibility of _other_ issues, Minerva," Lord Phillip reminded her.

"Of course," she said, closing her eyes as if dreading what she must say next. "Neither of you are allowed in the other's room after six o'clock. This is because we do not want—er, teenage hormones to get in the way of your studies."

"Oh, Professor, I assure you that we will have _no _problems there," I said, with a laugh and a pointed look at Malfoy.

"Yes, that's what Lily Evans said," Lord Phillip muttered, causing my cheeks to redden. I could practically hear Malfoy smirking at me and I wished desperately that I could hex it off of his face.

"I would like each of you to select your three visitors by tomorrow evening," Professor McGonagall continued as if nothing had happened. "They must all be here after dinner so that I can make the wards. Until then, I am afraid, no one is allowed in here but the two of you, Professor Dumbledore, and I."

We both nodded.

"Right then, I suppose I will leave you two here," she said. "I have some work to do before classes start tomorrow."

She went out through the portrait door and Malfoy and I were left sitting in the middle of the room alone.

"Er—I suppose we should check out the rooms," I said, more to myself than to him.

"Do what you want, Granger," he said, sitting back and folding his arms behind his head. I rolled my eyes and walked up the stairs on the right of the alcove. When I reached the balcony, I noticed for the first time that a portrait hung on each door. The first one was a portrait of Malfoy, the second of a house elf, and the third of me.

"Your room is the one on the right, Malfoy," I called down to him. Instead of answering he just waved his hand at me. "Oh, come on, Ferret, come up and look."

He groaned and stood up, turning to face me.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't practice your bossiness on me, Granger," he said indignantly, but he came up the stairs anyway. I went to first door, the one with his portrait on it, but it wouldn't open. The Malfoy in the portrait smirked at me.

"Stupid Mudblood," it sneered. "As if I would ever let the likes of _you _in here."

The real Malfoy smirked as well, and I shot him a look of loathing. He opened the door and walked in, while I remained in the doorway. Surprisingly—yes, that is sarcasm—the room was decorated in Slytherin colors. There was a bed, a desk, a chair, and a dresser. The bedclothes and the curtains on the window were green and silver, and the Slytherin crest was painted on the wall above his desk.

"You can come in, you know," Malfoy said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"As much as I'd love to, it's after six," I replied, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Very good, Miss Granger," came Lord Phillip's voice. Malfoy rolled his eyes and I smirked triumphantly.

"Okay Miss Know-It-All, let's see your room, then," he said, brushing past me and onto the balcony. Lord Phillip winked at me from his portrait and I smiled as I walked to my own door. Opening it, I found that the layout was the same as Malfoy's only mirrored and decorated with Gryffindor colors.

I stepped inside to take it all in and noticed that Malfoy was following me in. I turned around to yell at him, but Lord Phillip beat me to it.

"I strongly advise you get out of the young lady's room, boy, or you will find yourself in detention before your father can say 'suck up.'"

Malfoy's jaw dropped resentfully, and he stepped out of the room in a huff. I could not help but laugh, and Malfoy gave me the bird and a death glare.

We then went to the door to what I assumed was the bathroom, where the portrait of a house elf looked up at us.

"Master Draco, Mistress Hermione," the elf squeaked. "Lindy is honored to meet you. Lindy is having a portrait in the kitchens, if you are needing any assistance."

"Thank you, Lindy," I replied kindly, before reaching for the handle.

I opened the door to reveal a large bathroom with a bath the size of the Prefect's bath, a toilet, and a shower stall. There were two vanity sinks with one large mirror along one wall.

"This is nice," I said to myself.

"Yes, now would you get out so I can take a shower?" Malfoy spat.

"Of course, Your Highness," I said and left the bathroom quickly before my body could have time to protest. Sure enough, once I was out on the balcony, my lower stomach began to tingle and I had an inexplicable urge make up an excuse to go back in. Shaking it off I entered my own room and went to my bag to get a book. I went back downstairs and sat on the couch, curling my legs underneath my body as I tried to read. Lord Phillip had gone back to sleep and I looked up at him with curiosity. Some chaperone.

'_Blaise,_' I tried, desperate for some sort of human contact apart from Malfoy. When there was no answer I tried again. And again. And again. Finally, I gave up and focused on my book again. I was slightly disheartened that I could not seem to get through to my twin, and decided that it was probably because our power had not quite developed entirely.

Twenty minutes later, Malfoy came down, dressed in pajama pants and a Quidditch t-shirt. His shirt was tight enough that I could see his abdominal muscles—and I cursed myself for even noticing. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, brushing his wet hair away from his face.

"So," he said, muttering a spell with his wand to dry said hair. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"Told anyone what?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"You know, that your name isn't Granger anymore," he clarified. "I mean, McGonagall has called you Hermione Granger about ten times tonight and you have yet to correct her."

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it," I said honestly. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"Nothing," he said, but his smirk gave him away. "I guess even you know that you were always meant to be a Mudblood."

Before I could respond in my behalf, which might have included me whipping out my wand and setting his head on fire, Lord Phillip cleared his throat.

"I will not permit the use of that word in this common room again, Mr. Malfoy," he said sternly. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. Admittedly, I was not entirely pleased either. I would rather be allowed to defend myself than to have some portrait treat us like children. Well, to be fair, Malfoy is as good as a child.

"Thank you, Lord Phillip," I said politely. "But I really could have handled him, myself."

"With all due respect, milady," he replied just as politely, "this is my domain and I set the rules. I have no doubt of your ability to defend yourself, but I also have no doubt as to what that would entail, and such arguments will not be tolerated."

"I understand," I said, closing my book. I sent Malfoy a look that told him that our conversation was not over before rising to my feet. "Goodnight."

Once inside my room I felt a wave of exhaustion roll over me. I gathered my things and went to the batroom to take a shower. After about fifteen minutes under the glorious stream of water, I dried off and changed into my sunflower pajamas. I walked out of the bathroom and sent Malfoy, who was opening the door to his own room, a glare. I shut my door behind me and collapsed on my bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Normally, people wake to the buzzing of an alarm clock. Not me. I have no need for alarm clocks on school days, because my body is practically wired according to my class schedule. I have never, in all my life, slept in on a school day, simply because my body can sense when I have classes and, therefore, when I need to wake up. Unfortunately, this does not make the process of waking up any easier.

Last night I got little sleep, as I had a nightmare again. Nightmares were quite frequent for me, and I have been having one every night since the end of the war. The odd thing is—and I had only just realized this—the last nightmare that I had was my very first night as a Zabini. Ever since then, I have either not had one or could not recall having one. Anyway, I woke up after my nightmare and did the usual post-nightmare routine: got a glass of water and sat up crying until the tears stopped. Even though I desperately wanted to sit by the fire until my nerves settled, I could not work up the courage to leave my room for fear of Malfoy seeing me. Instead I stayed in my room, watching the owls fly outside my window.

I got dressed and left the Head tower in a flurry, desperate to talk to another human being before I internally combusted. I hurried to the Great Hall and found a seat next to Harry, beaming at him and sighing with content.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry said. "You look happy."

"Well, it's the first day of term," I said honestly. "Who wouldn't be?"

* * *

Blaise:

"Merlin, I had no idea what to do!" Draco groaned. "I got up to go to the bathroom and I could hear it."

"Hear what?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"She—she was… crying," Draco said, and made a disgusted face.

"So what did you do?" I said, inwardly groaning. The first night that Hermione moved in, after we had discovered our power, she had a nightmare, and it was as if I was having it as well. I had flashes of a wand raising and a green light emitting from it and hitting someone squarely in the chest. There was a small boy crouching behind a pillar and a small hand that I assumed to be Minny's reaching out to help him. Another flash of green light and the boy had fallen to the ground. There were a couple of more flashes of light and people screaming until it finally ended. I could hear Hermione's cries from my bedroom, and my heart had gone out to her. Based on her behavior the next morning, I deducted that this nightmare was recurring, and I decided to try to help her. Every night, once I could feel the beginning of the nightmare coming on, I would think soothing thoughts to her, until eventually the visions would fade. After a few days, I was able to stop the nightmares before they even came. Hermione never showed that she knew what I was doing, but she looked noticeably calmer so I continued. Last night I had tried to communicate with her, but found that our minds were not strong enough to transmit signals from opposite ends of the castle. I had hoped that she wouldn't have another nightmare, but from what Draco is saying, she must have.

"There wasn't really anything that I could do," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders, the look of disgust still plastered on his face. "I just went back into my room and closed the door."

I shook my head and chanced a glance at Hermione, who was beaming happily at all her friends. I could not imagine what it must be like for her, reliving the war every night in her sleep. She looked up at me and cocked her head at my look of concern and I shook my head at her and smiled.

"You know," Draco said, watching our interaction curiously. "She hasn't told anyone that she was adopted and is really a Zabini."

My gaze turned to Draco as I took in this news. I shrugged it off and looked back at Minny, who was talking animatedly with Finnigan.

"I suppose she will when she's ready," I said.

"Morning, Drakie," Pansy called, sitting down next to him in a huff and draping her arm around his shoulder. She leaned in to kiss him, but Draco turned his head, causing her lips to hit his cheek instead.

"It's too early, Pans," he groaned.

"But Draco," she protested, "I've hardly seen you. Besides, it must be awful to have to share a common room with that horrible, bushy-haired freak."

I could see the jealousy in Pansy's eyes, but Draco must have missed it, because he just rolled his own.

"I can't eat my breakfast with you all over me," he said, trying to shake her off.

She let go reluctantly and glared at him.

"What's gotten into you?" she bit.

"Right now? You," he said with annoyance. "You're so bloody clingy."

"That never bothered you before," she snapped.

"It's _always_ bothered me, Pansy," Draco said irritably. "You've just always been too fucking daft to realize it."

"Do not curse at me, you fucking bastard!" she spat with venom.

"Take your own advice, then!"

She huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. I just shook my head at the ludicrousness of it all, knowing that in five minutes time she would be back to her usual self. Yes, these arguments were incredibly routine and happened at least three times a day.

Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling at them through mouths full of food and I glared at them with disgust, right as Millicent sat down next to me.

"Hey, Blaise," she said, sliding closer to me. I shuddered involuntarily and tried to scoot closer to Draco, who was snickering under his breath. I elbowed him in the gut and he stopped, but he smirked at me with amusement. I sighed; it was just another normal morning at the Slytherin table.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so I know that the nightmare thing is probably incredibly cliche, but it was the most creative way that I could think of to begin explaining what happened in the war. Yes, I _am_ going to tell you that. Honestly, defeating Voldemort isn't exactly a walk in the park, and it would be incredibly unbecoming of me to just leave that to your imagination. There _is_ a story to it, no fear. Also, sorry for all this story development junk, I promise I will get to the plot! It will start next chapter, I swear!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to just apologize in advance for the insanity of this chapter... I was feeling a bit.. giddy.. while writing it, and let out a bit of my oddness into it. Well, you get to know some of my odd little quirks in this chapter, I guess. Whatever, it's my story anyway, right? Anyway, thanks to my reviewers, reviews are always appreciated and they make me feel good... almost like a mini-massage after a hard day's work... or one of those back rubbing thingys. Ya.. just please read, don't get too freaked out or concerned for my sanity (I realized long ago that I have little of it), and review. Thanks!

* * *

**I sighed with content as Professor McGonagall lectured about the importance of N.E.W.T's and the imperativeness of effective studying and constant effort. Harry and Ron were on either side of me, both looking aimlessly around the room as their minds wandered to Merlin-knows-where. Don't get me wrong, I hate that they have absolutely no enthusiasm when it comes to their educations, but at the same time, I revel in the fact that I feel superior in said area. Yes, I know that is highly conceited of me, but when you are friends with the boy-who-rid-the-world-of-Lord-Voldemort and Ron Weasley, who has less of a hero complex yet is still (for reasons beyond comprehension) fawned over by a vast majority of the female population, you tend to feel slightly overshadowed. That's why I love the fact that while they care more about what they are going to eat for lunch than what's going to be on the next exam, my mind remains firmly focused and hanging on every word that McGonagall says. Because Hermione Granger's mind does not wander. Hermione Granger's mind does not even know _how_ to wander. If Hermione Granger's mind was set loose to 'wander' it would take two tentative steps before vigorously shaking its head and returning to its stubborn position where all minds should idealistically be.

"Miss Granger?"

"Er—sorry, Professor, my mind wandered."

Okay, I lied. Don't look at me like that; I'm not the bloody Chuck Norris of education. Well, not all the time.

"That's quite alright," Professor McGonagall said, "if not a bit unbecoming of you."

"Sorry, I won't let it happen again," I assured her. I sat up straighter in my chair and looked around at Harry and Ron, expecting them to be shocked at my lack of concentration. Instead, I noticed that they weren't even there. In fact, looking around, I noticed that the entire class was gathered in a procession to get out the door.

Oh. _Oh_. Gathering my things, I felt heat rise to my cheeks as Professor McGonagall smiled knowingly at me—Merlin, I _hate_ when people smile knowingly at me; as if they just _know_.

Once my books were firmly in place, I rushed out the door to find my "best friends"—emphasis on the quotations—leaning against the wall and chuckling madly.

"Why didn't either of you tell me?" I asked irritably.

"We wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice," Ron said, clutching his stomach.

"I'm glad you find amusement in my making a fool out of myself," I said sarcastically. "I probably just discredited twenty per cent of my reputation."

"You can live with eighty per cent, can't you?" Harry asked.

"No!" I said indignantly. "Let me put it to you this way: scar is to Harry Potter as smirk is to Draco Malfoy as brain is to Hermione Granger. You wouldn't be the same person if you had only survived eighty per cent of the Killing Curse, would you?"

"Er, no, I'd be dead," Harry said sardonically.

"Wait, so what's to me?" Ron asked.

"I don't know, Ronald," I said as we made our way to the Great Hall, "a stomach to rival Mary Poppins' traveling bag?"

"Who's bag?" Ron asked in confusion, scratching his head as Harry and I laughed.

* * *

A couple hours later, I was seated at the Gryffindor Table while Harry and Ron droned on about Quidditch. Again. I was keeping myself amused by going over every infinitesimal detail of my Transfiguration notes. 

Infinitesimal. I love that word. It has a certain… ring to it. Seriously, say with me and you will know what I am talking about. Infinitesimal.

"Hermione!" Ginny said, waving a hand in front of my face. I snapped out of my reverie and looked at her. She was looking at me curiously, squinting as if trying to make out some very fine print. "What are you doing?"

Oh, just narrating my every thought to a nonexistent audience that I can manipulate and bend to my every will (insert maniacal laugh here). Seriously, raise your hand if you were malleable enough that you actually said the word out loud.

Okay, if you just raised your hand, there's no hope for you. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice…

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. "Just got a bit side tracked."

"Yeah, I've heard," Ginny said, furrowing her brow in concern. "Harry and Ron were just telling me that you zoned out in Transfiguration earlier. What's up?"

"Nothing is up, just a bit off today," I replied shortly.

"Hermione, it's the first day of class," Ginny said, becoming worried. "You are _never_ off on the first day… or any day for that matter."

Before I could answer, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to look up at a smirking face. Now, based on the little equation I drew up earlier, I'm sure you can deduce who belongs to this face.

"Brilliant," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Don't worry, Granger," Malfoy spat. "I'm not here to _talk_ to you. Gods, no. I was just instructed, being Head Boy and all, to let my counterpart know that the Headmaster wishes to meet with her."

"Now?"

"Yes, _now_."

"Fine," I said, rising to my feet. I told Harry, Ron, and Ginny a hurried goodbye and left without a backwards glance. I made it all the way to the stone gargoyles before I realized that I didn't know the password. Honestly, why _does_ the Headmaster even have a password? Isn't he supposed to be easily accessible to students? Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose if we can't even get into his bloody office?

"Need a password?" Malfoy drawled from behind me.

"Did you follow me up here?" I asked defensively.

"Well, yes. You fucking ran off before I could give you the password."

"So, give it to me and leave."

"Hmm, this is quite the predicament you've gotten yourself into, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "See, if you really want the password, I'm going to want something in return."

"Really?" I said, not at all amused. "And what would that be?"

He smirked and winked suggestively, kissing the air in front of him. I rolled my eyes.

"Not bloody likely," I said. "Just tell it to me."

"Fine, it's 'sugar quills,' but you can't blame a guy for trying."

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how easy it is to blame _you_ for anything."

"What does that mean?"

"Never mind," I said, turning to the stone gargoyles and taking a deep breath. I honestly did not know what compelled me to say that, but I sure as hell knew that I shouldn't have. "Sugar quills."

They jumped aside to reveal the spiral staircase and I hopped on as it moved me steadily upwards.

"No, I will not disregard the matter, I want to know what you meant by it."

I jumped, because I honestly did not anticipate him being right behind me.

"Are you supposed to be coming with me?"

"No, but that's irrelevant," Malfoy said irritably. "What else have you blamed me for?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, really wishing he could just trip down the stairs, hit his head, and rid the world of his Ferret-stench. Alright, so that's a bit harsh, but I wouldn't mind the tripping part.

"You said that it's easy to blame me," Malfoy said, his voice rising with anger. "So what is it that you can so easily blame me for?"

"You're twisting my words around, Malfoy!" I said, also becoming upset, and praying to whatever God there was to get me out of this before I said something that I would _really_ regret.

"No, I'm pretty sure I got your words down verbatim," Malfoy yelled. "Now what I want to know is what you were insinuating by using them!"

"I meant _nothing_ by them! Merlin, Malfoy, just leave me alone!"

I opened the door that we had mercifully reached and slid inside, momentarily forgetting that said door belonged to the office of the Headmaster and it was incredibly disrespectful to enter without knocking.

Closing the door before Malfoy could further protest, I leaned my back against it and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Thank you for joining me, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said from behind his half-moon spectacles. I looked up with surprise at the Headmaster, his hands folded on his desk and an amused half-smile on his face. "Or, shall I say, Miss Zabini?"

"Sorry for coming in without knocking, Professor," I said and gestured to the door, choosing to ignore his little question.

"Ah," he smiled. "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy played a significant role in that spontaneous decision, so I shall excuse you just this once."

"Thank you," I said, sitting down at the inclination of his head.

"So, how has your first couple of weeks been?"

"Erm, it hasn't even been a day yet," I said, dumbfounded—that's a bit oxymoronic, isn't it? I, dumbfounded?

He chuckled. "Miss Granger, you've misunderstood my question; I meant your first weeks as a Zabini."

"Oh," I said. "They've been… interesting."

"Less than so would be rather unusual, I think," he said, still smiling. "Now, forgive me, but I must bring up a topic of a rather serious nature."

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

"I need you to understand that when you choose to reveal your true family to the rest of Hogwarts," he said, eyeing me rather intensely, "issues may arise."

"But, sir, all of my friends and a few of Blaise's friends already know," I said. "Won't people find out eventually?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Which makes it even more imperative that _you_ tell people before it becomes the latest gossip."

"What do you mean?"

"I believe there is a Muggle game in which one person tells their neighbor a secret, and by the time it gets back to that person, the secret hardly resembles what they had originally relayed."

"Do you mean telephone?" I asked.

"Is that what it's called?" he wondered. "Yes, do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

"That if I don't tell people for myself, then people might get the wrong impression?"

"Precisely," he said simply.

"I'm afraid I still don't quite understand," I said, furrowing my brow into a frown.

"There is more than one way to join a new family, Miss Granger," he said.

"Oh," I said, finally connecting the dots. A witch famous for being a Muggle-born suddenly becoming part of a Pureblood family not even a year after the fall of an evil wizard infamous for his genocide of Muggle-borns, and not telling people about it herself. Would people actually be daft enough to believe that they had somehow kidnapped me or otherwise forced me into it? Honestly, yes. "So I should tell people as soon as I can, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," he nodded. "However, you must be prepared for the consequences."

"Consequences?"

He nodded again. "I am certain that not everyone will be pleased with this revelation."

I swallowed. Right, how could I have overlooked this infinitesimal—pauses for devilish cackle—detail?

He smiled encouragingly at me. "I strongly advise telling people of your situation, though I must also warn you to take caution." I nodded. "Good. If I am not mistaken, lunch has ended, so if you would kindly explain to Professor Flitwick that you were speaking with me, I am sure he would be delighted to excuse your tardiness."

I thanked him with a small smile and left, going over everything he had said in my head.

* * *

"So basically, you have to tell the entire school before they find out from someone else?" Ginny asked slowly, as if trying to etch the words into her head as she said them. 

"Yes," I said. We were eating dinner and I had just informed the three of them of what Professor Dumbledore and I had talked about. "Though, Merlin knows how I am supposed to accomplish _that_. News spreads throughout this place faster than a Snitch, so it would be virtually impossible to pull it off without having to tell everyone all at once."

"We could blow up a picture of you and Blaise and plaster it all over the walls of Hogwarts with the caption, 'Hermione is a Pureblood!'" Ginny suggested with enthusiasm.

"Or we could hand out flyers," Harry piped in.

"Or we could spell it out with one of Fred and George's fireworks and set it off in the Great Hall," was Ron's bid.

"Thanks for the help," I said sarcastically.

"I actually think Ron's idea isn't half bad," Ginny said thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Gin," Ron said, obviously taken-aback at this compliment.

"If my intentions were to land myself in detention for the rest of the month, then yes, it would be a very good idea," I said and Harry chuckled.

"Well, we could—"

"What if we—"

I cut them both off by raising a silencing hand—never underestimate the power of Hermione Granger's hand.

"I realize that you're sincerely trying to help," I said, "but we don't need a repeat of fifth year, okay?"

"Well, then, what _are_ you going to do?" Ginny asked.

"I suppose I should start with my professors and actually, physically _talking_ to Blaise instead of…" my voice trailed off as I realized where this was going. Thankfully, Ron was too preoccupied with the pudding that just appeared in front of him, Harry with the Patil twin that just sat down next to him, and Ginny with _my_ twin that just grinned charmingly over to her, to notice my faux pas.

"What were you saying," Ginny asked, eyes still fixated on my brother.

"Nevermind, it was nothing," I replied.

* * *

Dinner passed and I lead them all towards the Head Tower, reaching Silvia's portrait within minutes. 

"Good evening, Silvia," I tried.

"Not hardly," she said, eyeing me with contempt. "These your little friends, then?"

"Er—yes, this is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley."

"Harry Potter, did you say?" she asked, turning her gaze to the bespectacled boy on my right.

"Yes, she did say," Harry said, slightly perturbed. It amazed me how after all this time, he still was not used to the attention.

"Bludger," I said—Malfoy had changed the password first thing this morning ("No fucking way am I saying 'pygmy puff' every time I want to get in my damn room!")—ignoring the annoyed look on Harry's face.

"Sorry, Miss Granger," Silvia said. "I was left instructions not to allow anyone entrance until Professor McGonagall arrives."

"What are we supposed to do until she comes, then?" I asked.

"I think that the common thing to do in this situation would be to…" she paused, pretending to be in deep thought, "ah, yes, _wait_."

I turned as I heard people approaching from the direction that we had just came from, sighing heavily as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle came into view—I had to strain to see Blaise, as he was walking behind Goyle and, therefore, invisible to the two-dimensional eye.

"What are we all waiting out here for?" Malfoy asked.

"Not allowed in," I said, gesturing towards Silvia who nodded and gave a fake pout.

"Great," he said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Ginny," Blaise said, sliding up next to her and draping an arm around her shoulder.

"What's this?" Ron asked wildly, pointing back and forth between the two of them and looking at _me_ for an answer.

"Butt out, Ron," Ginny said.

* * *

"So, Pothead, save the world recently?" 

"So, Ferret, grow two balls and a soul recently?"

* * *

"Blaise, I had a meeting with Dumbledore earlier." 

"About that, Granger, we still haven't finished our conversation."

"Sod off, Malfoy."

* * *

"So, why don't you just sit with me tomorrow night?" 

"I'm not suicidal, Blaise! The Slytherin's would murder me!"

"Wouldn't that be a tragedy?"

"Really, Malfoy, I'm not above causing damage to your family goods while you sleep!"

"Kinky."

* * *

"I don't understand why you haven't just snogged him, already. I know you want to." 

"I do _not_ want to snog him! I'll probably get rabies or something."

"Can ferrets get rabies?"

"Yes, Ginny."

* * *

"Harry, have you asked Parvati out already?" 

"Nah, not yet."

"Well, you better get a move on, I saw Seamus eyeing her earlier. With that chest of hers, every guy wants to get in her pants."

"Ronald!"

"Sorry, Mione, but its male instinct."

"More like animal instinct."

* * *

"Crabbe! You bloody half-wit, that's my fucking foot!" 

"Sorry, mate, I wasn't aiming for it!"

"You shouldn't have been _aiming _for anything! Bloody hell, put it out!"

"Stop, drop, and roll! Stop, drop, and roll!"

"What the _fuck_, Granger?"

"I'm just trying to be helpful!"

"By telling me to _dance_?"

"It's called a wand for a reason, guys!"

"Right, Blaise, sorry, I wasn't thinking straight."

"I got it—hold still, you bloody wanker!"

"Potter, my _foot_ is on _fire_. Holding still isn't really an option!"

"_Aguamenti!_ Merlin, you'd think it was advanced Arithmetic's or something! Hermione, I love you, but you really need to work on keeping a cool head. Honestly, stop, drop, and roll? What _was_ that?"

"At least we have _one_ rational person around here."

"Thanks, Blaise."

"Not a problem, Ginny."

"I've just lost my appetite."

"For once, Weasel and I actually agree on something."

* * *

"My foot still hurts." 

"Boo, you whore."

"I love that movie."

"Harry?"

"Er—did I say that out loud?"

* * *

"Finally!" Malfoy said, heaving himself up with great effort and wincing as he put his weight on his left foot. 

We all turned to the direction in which he was looking and let out sighs of relief.

"Sorry, I'm late," Professor McGonagall said. "A second year unknowingly went into the second floor girl's toilet to be sick. Myrtle wasn't too pleased, and, well, you can just imagine the mess."

We all took a collective wince.

"Anyway, I'll make this short," she said. "Right then, Miss Granger, your three visitors are Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Weasley; Mr. Malfoy yours are Mr. Zabini, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle. Very well, I must ask the six of you to come over here for a minute."

She ran her wand over each of them as if it was a metal detector, and then ran it over the edges of the portrait door. Once she was finished, she looked up at us all.

"That's it," she said, straightening up and smoothing the creases on her robes.

"That's it?" Malfoy asked, slightly aggravated. "We waited for half an hour for _that_?"

"Yes," she said simply, looking at him as if daring him to complain any more. He didn't. The pansy. "Right, well, it is about time for you all to be heading back to your respective dormitories."

"Can't we see inside for a minute?" Ginny asked innocently.

"I'm sorry, but it is almost curfew and a weekday," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "I am afraid you will have to wait until Friday, Miss Weasley. Goodnight."

After she sent a pointed look at all of them, they reluctantly bid goodnight to the Heads and left, McGonagall following them down the corridor.

"Bludger," Malfoy said, and Silvia opened the door for us to enter.

"Ah, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy," Lord Phillip said. "I was beginning to wonder if you were even coming back."

"We were just outside, Lord Phillip," I answered. "We were waiting for Professor McGonagall to set up the wards."

"Indeed, I had forgotten," he nodded.

I smiled and pulled out a sheaf of parchment to begin my Charms essay, and sat down on the couch with a sigh.

"Homework already, Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy."

"Even though it's only the first day?"

"_Yes_, Malfoy."

"Are you mad?"

"Yes. Malfoy."

"Are you undeniably attracted to my sex-appeal and are overwhelmed with the urge to snog me senseless every time you see me?"

"Nice try, you bloody Ferret, now leave me alone!"

"No I don't think I will," he said, sitting down next to me. "You see we still have to finish our earlier argument."

"There's nothing to finish," I said, exasperated and frustrated beyond words. If I was getting this tired of him and it was only the first day, I could only imagine how torturous the rest of the year was going to be.

"Yes, Granger, there is," he said. "Don't think that I am going to forget what you said. You're blaming me for something, and hell if I don't find out what it is."

"I'm not blaming you for anything!" I said. "Unless you count contaminating the world with that self-righteous, bigot-driven, heartless, soulless breathing of yours."

"You're one to talk, Mu—"

"Don't."

"What? Got a problem with it, Granger? It must be hard always being lower than dirt and having to hear about it."

"No, actually, I'm pretty immune to the word, if you ask me," I said. "You see, it sort of lost its charm after the… second time you said it. No, I just didn't want you to say something that would land you into trouble with _him_." I gestured to the grey-haired, bearded man in the portrait, who was currently snoring rather loudly.

"Looking out for me?" he asked. "How touching. _Don't_."

"Gladly, sorry I did it in the first place," I seethed. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

I picked up my things—no use trying to get anything done _now_—and walked up the stairs.

"Wait," Malfoy said. I peered down at him with interest and he smirked.

"What?"

"I'm willing to try that 'damage to the family goods' thing now, if you're interested."

"Good _night_, Malfoy," I said, waving my middle finger in the air.

* * *

I woke up shivering in the middle of the night, the tears rolling down my cheeks in a race to reach my chin. For a minute, I contemplated staying in bed like I had the past three nights, still afraid that Malfoy would randomly come out of his room and see me, but I ultimately decided that I needed the open space to gather my thoughts. 

I opened my door and peered out. The common room below was pitched black save for the flickering of a small fire in the fireplace and Malfoy's door was firmly closed. I lit my wand and walked downstairs, sitting on the window seat and curling my knees up to my chest. I sighed and let the tears fall freely, knowing that in a couple of minutes they would end. Hugging my knees, I looked out the window, searching the stars for some sign of light at the end of the tunnel. I wanted these nightmares to finally end, and knew I needed closure in order for that to happen. Little did I know, the price I would have to pay for said closure would change my life forever.

* * *

Blaise: 

"Hey, Blaisey," came an annoyingly high-pitched voice from in front of me. Millicent and Pansy had just sat down across from me, the former smiling in a way she must have thought was endearing, but I found rather nauseating.

I grunted and turned away, frantically searching the sea of people entering the Great Hall for dinner for a head of blond that would be my sanity.

"I am so glad it's the weekend," Pansy mumbled, her chicken practically hanging out of her mouth as she talked. "First week back always blows."

I swallowed down the bile I felt while watching her eat, just as Malfoy sauntered—yes, he actually saunters, the bloody prick—down the aisle and took the seat next to me.

"Coming to the Head Tower tonight, Blaise?" he asked me.

"Of course," I answered.

"We're all hanging out in the Head Tower?" Pansy asked, looking to Draco. "I want to see your room, Drakie." She winked and I swear I thought I would throw up all over my dinner. Draco, to my surprise, looked the same.

"You can't come, Pansy."

"Why bloody not?" Pansy asked, enraged. "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, Draco. I'm coming and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"It's not what _I_ can do," Malfoy said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, _love_."

"Blaise!"

I looked up and saw my sister walking towards me, a nervous look on her face.

_I thought I'd give it a go_, she told me, _just don't let them kill me_.

"Hey, Minny, come sit down," I said, winking at her.

My house mates in the seats surrounding us had looked around in curiosity, watching the exchange. Draco's eyes were wide and he looked a bit amused at us, not having actually believed that she would sit with us. It took her a week to pluck up the courage, but the her face was set and determined, so there was no stopping her now. Pansy was scowling, about ready to pounce at anyone who snapped at her.

"Thanks," Hermione said quietly, sitting down. The minute she sat down there was a collective gasp from all four house tables, and students began to whisper excitedly to each other, those with absolutely no self-control nearly yelling at the top of their lungs.

"What the fuck is _she_ doing here?" a Slytherin sixth year asked.

"_Hermione_ is my sister," I said calmly. Minny took in a deep breath, as if anticipating an uproar. Well, she got it. Slytherins up and down the table stood angrily and began yelling at us ("She's a Mudblood!" "That's impossible!" "Go back to your fucking Muggle-lovers!")

Shit.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, yes, you have to wait until next chapter to find out what happens next. **

**A couple of post-chapter apologies: sorry for the Chuck Norris reference, I just felt like slipping it in there, I know it's not exactly parallel to the setting, but I'm not too particular and if you are, well, I'm sorry. Also, I apologize for the Mean Girl's quote, I was watching the movie while writing that part and was trying to come up with one more little dialogue thingy.. so it was a matter of convenience. Yes, I know it was released long after this takes place, but again, I couldn't help myself.**

**Psh, who am I kidding, I have no need to apologize to any of you!**

_Still.. I'm sorry!_

**That, ladies and gentlemen (if there are any.. which I kind of, really, doubt it), was my conscious.. always tends to make an appearance in the most unwanted of times, but it wouldn't have let me get away without apologizing. I'm apologizing because those things don't belong, and I don't want to hear it from fifty people. Ha, like fifty people would even review.. but now I'm just rambling. :)**

**Last thing: Brownie points to anyone who can find my subtle homage to Heath Ledger. (May he rest in peace... that was a sad shock.)**

**Ok, now press the blue button that says Go, and you'll be my best friend.**

**Oh, one last sorry: Sorry for the ridiculously long Author's note, but in my defense, you didn't have to read it. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This one is a long one, and kind of important. I think I like this chapter, there's a lot going on. I haven't really decided if I do or not.**

**Thank you to all of my reviewers for the last chapter. People liked it more than I thought they would, and it was a nice surprise. So, thanks and I hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint.**

**I am a little disheartened that no one caught my reference to Heath Ledger. No brownie points :(... In A Knight's Tale, William (Heath) follows Roselyn into a church on his horse in attempt to talk to her, and he doesn't realize it. When the Priest yells, "You desecrate the House of God!" he looks up and finally realizes that he's in a church and he says, "Oh. _Oh_." It's one of my favorite lines, just because of the way he says it. In the last chapter, Hermione said it--or narrated it, but whatever--when she realized class was over. Anyway.. now read my story.**

**

* * *

**

Hermione:

Now, I am a clever girl, correct? Head Girl, highest grades in all of Hogwarts, brightest witch of my age, and all that gab. So why, in all that is sacred and holy, did I _ever_ think that sitting with my brother would have been an effective way to go about spreading the word?

I could feel about fifty pairs of bloodthirsty eyes on me, mouths contorted into furious sneers or scowls, words pounding in my ears like the hammers of a thousand angry Christmas elves—only without all that jolliness and cheer, but that goes without saying.

Not only were half of the Slytherins standing and yelling at Blaise and me like madmen, but some of the other houses had representatives shouting their bids from across the hall. In all my years at Hogwarts I had never seen such outrage, and it was all directed at me. As if it was _my_ fault. Bloody wankers.

That's when I felt the anger bubble up inside of me. Because, honestly, the _nerve_ of these people. As if my life is any of _their_ concern.

Blaise was obviously feeling this same anger as I was, and he was expressing it by throwing his own obscenities back at the furious students. It was all I could do to keep myself from rising to _my_ feet with completely un-Hermione-like curses—but alas, the Gods have blessed me with impeccable self-control.

Meanwhile, Malfoy looked like his birthday had come early, and I was sorely tempted to strangle him. In all seriousness, it looked as if Malfoy wanted to laugh. Yes, _laugh_. And I don't mean his usual harsh, bitter, taunting laugh that he normally displays, but a full out, giddy, mirthful laugh. Normally, I would never associate the word, 'giddy,' with Malfoy, but looking at his face, I found that there was really no other way to describe it.

It was at that exact moment—of course, I had to distract myself by looking at _Malfoy_, where _was_ my head these days?—that the same sixth year that had begun this madness drew his wand and pointed it straight at me. The other Slytherins seemed to think that since _he_ had done it, then it was somehow acceptable that _they_ do it as well, so in the next moment I was faced with about fifteen wooden shafts pointed directly at me or my twin. That was what did it for me.

I laughed—of the harsh, bitter, taunting variety—and rose to my feet. Really, you did _not_ just go there. You poor, _poor_, imprudent Slytherins. I wondered if they realized exactly _which_ bushy-haired Head Girl they had so foolishly risen their wands at, because if they _had _known, they certainly would not have done so to begin with.

Malfoy was nearly bouncing in his seat with excitement. He knew. He knew it was incredibly naïve of them to raise their wands at me, and he was going to enjoy what came next, if only for the fact that _he_ wouldn't be the one to suffer from it.

I couldn't help myself any longer; it was just too much to bear. I chanced a glance toward the Head Table, where half of the professors were confused about what to do, and the other half were trying to keep their own amusement inside. Professor Dumbledore winked at me, and the urge to double over with laughter almost overtook me.

The situation was quite ridiculous.

"Leave this table, _now_," the sixth year said menacingly. "You're outnumbered here."

"In number, perhaps," I bit back. "In intelligence, hardly."

Before he could reply, I cast the Silencing Charm on the lot of them, which resulted in hands clutching their throats, and then wildly gesticulating their disdain for me. At least they were no longer yelling.

"Fifty points will be deducted from the Slytherin House for such a disgusting display of rage," I spoke sternly, reveling in the fact that I could sound an awful lot like Professor McGonagall when I wanted to. This led to even more hatred-driven gestures and small puffs of smoke emitting from the ends of a few wands, suggesting that they were all trying, despite the fact that they could no longer _speak_, to curse me. "Oho, did you all forget just exactly what position in this school that I hold? Did you not see this shiny badge that I have on my robes? Do you know what this badge _means_? No? Then I shall tell you. _This badge_," I pointed to it for extra emphasis, "means that none of _you_ have any right to berate _me_, that _none_ of you have the right to speak to _me_ authoritatively, and most importantly, that _none of you_ have the right to meddle in _my_ affairs. I _am_ Hermione Zabini, Head Girl of this school, and there is nothing that any of _you_ can do to change this. So I suggest, with utmost sincerity, that you accept it for what it is, or face my wrath. Believe me, the latter is not the wisest path to follow. Enjoy your dinners."

Avoiding any gazes, I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and looked towards the Headmaster.

"I apologize for my outburst," I said politely, "though, I do hope you understand."

"I do," he replied, a twinkle of hilarity in his frighteningly bright blue eyes, "and all is forgiven. I must say, you handled that quite effectively. While I normally do not approve of casting spells over fellow classmates, I can clearly see that no harm was done and that you would not have otherwise been able to take control over the situation. Though, for the sake of my reputation as Headmaster, and to outlaw any chance of a precedence of circumstances in which doing so is acceptable, I must urge you never to use your wand on another student to give you an advantage in the future, unless such is absolutely necessary."

"I understand, sir," I said, smiling my gratitude. He returned it with a nod of dismissal.

I then proceeded to march out of the Great Hall with my chin proudly jutting outwards, only muttering the counter curse to the Silencing Charm as I walked through the heavy oak doors, a smug smile pulling on the corners of my lips as the other three tables erupted in victorious cheers.

Mess with Hermione Zabini. I _dare_ you.

* * *

"Holy mother of Merlin, Mione, that was bloody _brilliant_!" Ron exclaimed about twenty minutes later outside the portrait of the Silver Lady. "I only wish you could have seen the looks on their faces. They were so dumbstruck it was almost pathetic." 

"That's not really anything _new_, Ron," I said, though I couldn't help the smile that had arranged itself on my face.

"Seriously, Herms, I never knew you had it in you," Ginny said appreciatively. "Well, of course you had it _in_ you, I just never thought you'd let it _out_."

"It definitely beat that time in third year when you slapped Malfoy," Harry chuckled.

"And when you lifted the Silencing Charm, it had absolutely no affect on them," Ron laughed. "They were _still_ speechless. Honestly, I thought they'd all start leaking from their mouths."

"It was great, Hermione," Ginny nodded. "Though, I think you probably made them even angrier."

"Thanks, guys," I said, rolling my eyes. "And, Gin, I can handle whatever they throw at me."

I spoke the password to Silvia, who greeted me with a glower before swinging open. Harry, Ron, and Ginny followed me into the Common Room and gazed around in wonder.

"Miss Granger, quite a pleasant evening, is it not?" Lord Phillip asked, beaming.

"Quite," I replied. "Lord Phillip, these are my friends from Gryffindor."

"Pleased to meet all of you," he said, nodding at each one in turn.

After they had seen all that our tower had to offer, we sat on the couch in front of the fire, chatting about nonsensical things we would like to do to or witness happening to various Slytherins.

Ron was in the middle of a particularly hilarious scenario of a Slytherin male wearing a pink leotard complete with matching tutu and tights, prancing through the hallways on the arm of one Draco Malfoy, when a loud squeal sounded from the direction of the portrait.

Instinctively we all stood, drew our wands, and began to cautiously make our way towards the door.

"Sounded like the sort of sound a pig would make if Umbridge sat on it," Ron whispered.

"Hush, Ron," I reprimanded him. "We don't know what could be out there."

We continued to inch toward the door, Harry in the lead—as per usual, with his hero complex and all… not that I mind it, of course—straining our ears to hear any other unusual sounds. As we approached it we could hear muffled laughter, and what sounded like a female—a very angry female, from the sound of it—moaning and groaning and attempting to yell.

Harry pulled the door open, and all four of us instantly dropped our wands, and our jaws.

Pansy Parkinson was sprawled across the floor in an undignified heap, face contorted in pain and anger, and glaring up at four laughing males: Malfoy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. On her head was what appeared to be a Muggle dunce cap, and her two index fingers were caught in one of those tubular finger traps that was charmed so that no matter how hard she tried, she could not remove it.

"What in the _world_ did you do to her?" I asked the boys, fighting hard to contain my own laughter.

"Don't be so quick to assume," Malfoy said. "_We_ didn't do anything. Have you forgotten that McGonagall placed wards on our door so that no one but the eight of us can get in? Well, Pansy, here, decided that she wanted to see my room, without pausing to consider the fact that the entire human race is smarter than her. She had it coming."

Pansy scowled, and shot Malfoy a look of pure death.

"You bloody asshole; you could have _told_ me that and spared me the shame!"

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?"

"Malfoy, you prick, you didn't _tell_ her?" I asked, appalled. "This is ridiculous."

I pointed my wand at Pansy and rid her of the embarrassing accessories, then offered my hand to help her up.

Pansy looked as if she wanted to spit in it.

"I never asked for _your _help," she growled, pulling herself to her feet.

"Fine," I said, holding up my hands in surrender.

"Well if I can't get in there, let's go to the Slytherin common room, Drakie," Pansy said, dropping her anger towards him with a sweet, seductive smile. "You don't want to associate yourself with scum; it will do no good to my reputation."

"_Your _reputation?" Malfoy scoffed. "Honestly, is that all you ever think about?"

"_What_ is your problem?" she yelled. "Has the Mudblood gotten to your brain and contaminated it?"

"Don't call her that, you fat cow!"

I gasped, not quite sure whether I was more shocked at what he had called Pansy or that he had defended me. Either way, it was shocking.

"Defending her, now, are we?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had referred to her as an overweight farm animal.

"Um, hello? We're all still here!" I interrupted. "If you two want to have some lover's spat, please take it somewhere private so we aren't forced to hear it."

"Shove off, you crazy bint," Pansy seethed at me.

"Lover's spat?" Malfoy asked. "Isn't _love_ an essential element to a lover's spat? Because if is, than _this_," he pointed to Pansy, to himself, and back again, "is no such thing."

"Malfoy, either take it somewhere else or shut up," Harry snapped. "Mione's right, we don't want to hear the two of you arguing."

"Draco, mate, it really is getting old," Blaise amended. "Let's just go inside."

"In case I'm the only one who is aware of this," Pansy nearly screeched, "let me just point out the fact that this is none of _your_ business. Let's go, Draco, I feel filthy just being around them."

"Why don't _you_ go," Malfoy said nastily. "I'll stay here. Deal?"

Pansy let out an undignified growl of frustration, and the mental image of a bull steaming from its nostrils materialized in my mind's eye.

"This is _not_ over," she spat, before sending me a pointed glare and storming off down the hall.

"Well, if that wasn't melodramatic," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and the retreating raven-haired figure.

"That was nothing," Blaise said, nudging Malfoy. "You should see her in the mornings. Or during her monthlies."

The four Slytherins all winced in painful remembrance. We all went back inside, sitting on the couch, or on the chairs, or in Goyle's case, on the floor. I ended up being squished between Ron and Malfoy on the couch.

"Well, that was a little too much information for my liking," I said. "Thank you for that, Blaise."

"No problem, sis," he laughed. "By the way, what you did back there in the Great Hall was monumental. They all loathe you now, though."

"Ah, but it was a beautiful sight," Malfoy said, his gaze wandering with the memory and his mouth twisting a stupid half-smile.

"I'm flattered," I said, looking at him with an eyebrow quirked. He seemed to realize that he looked like a fool and corrected himself with his famous smirk.

"They'll be out for blood, now," he sneered. "Best be prepared. We Slytherins are known for our cunning, scheming, vengeful natures, and you've made yourself quite a few enemies."

"And a few admirers," Blaise said, shooting Malfoy a look that I couldn't quite understand, but before I could try to assess it, it was gone and Blaise was laughing. "Theodore Nott and Adrian Pucey are Hell-bent on talking to you. They mentioned something about seeing you all worked up and how hot it was, can't exactly remember verbatim, but I punched them both anyway."

"They'll be getting more than punched if they even so much as look at her wrong," Ron said, glaring at no one in general. Harry nodded his agreement and I rolled my eyes at them.

"Yes, well those two are pansies," Malfoy said, with a bitter tone in his voice. I looked at him in curiosity. "Not worth caring about."

_What's his problem?_ I asked Blaise, looking over at him. He just shrugged noncommittally.

_Probably still has a stick up his ass from his row with Pansy,_ he said. It was clear that there was something more to it, from the way Blaise kept avoiding my gaze, but I wasn't in the mood to push it.

* * *

All too soon it was ten o'clock, and time for our friends to leave. It was strange, the eight of us actually having a civil conversation without jumping down each other's throats. Harry, Ron, and Malfoy even got into a heated debate about (must I even say it?) Quidditch, which concluded with the three of them in agreement that Krum was an overrated has-been, Harry and Malfoy in agreement that the Canons will never get to the World Cup, Malfoy and Ron in agreement that Roger Davies needs to get his head out of his arse, and Harry and Ron in agreement that Cormac McLaggen's head _was_ his arse. 

They all said goodnight, and left Malfoy and me sitting on the couch. Now that everyone was gone, there was an empty spot next to me, and another one on his other side. For some reason that I cannot even begin to explain, neither of us moved.

He leaned back against the cushion and turned his head to face me. I leaned back as well, my arm pressing against his and sending tingles throughout my body.

"May I call you Zabini, now?" he asked. "I mean, you just let the secret out to the entire school, so you must be okay with it."

"No, I prefer you to call me Granger," I said.

"Why, you're not ashamed are you?"

"No, not anymore," I replied, honestly. "I'm going to ask my professors to refer to me as Miss Zabini on Monday."

"Well, then why can't I call you Zabini?" he asked incredulously. Apparently he thought I was offending him.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I kind of like it when you call me Granger."

Malfoy looked at me strangely, and I smiled a bit. Our faces were much too close, and I could almost feel his steady breath against my cheek. His lips parted and his tongue flicked out, as his eyes turned downward to gaze at my mouth. He slowly inched closer, and the heat radiated from his face as it neared mine.

That was when my senses finally caught up with me. Draco Malfoy was leaning in to kiss me, and I was going to let him. I stood up so suddenly that the blood rushed to my head, so I grabbed my forehead to steady myself and turned to look at him.

"Erm, g-goodnight, Malfoy," I stuttered, then bolted up the stairs and into my room, shutting my door with a tight snap and locking it with my wand. I sighed, my body slightly trembling from what had occurred on the couch, and paced back and forth in attempt to compose myself.

I should not be letting him do things like that. There was that whole arrogant, ferret-face, he-tormented-me-for-the-greater-part-of-my-Hogwarts-career thing that was, of course, a major set-back. And then there was Pansy, who would claw my eyes out of their sockets with a fork if she ever found out. But then there was that other thing. The thing that haunted me every night and wouldn't let me forget. That _thing_ was why I should not be letting him get that close to kissing me. It was just nonsensical, and definitely not right.

Was I wrong in letting Malfoy get that close? No, it was simply a momentary lapse of my sanity caused by his natural pheromones that caused my overly sensitive nerves to react and take over any logical thought.

Yes, Hermione, blame it on the hormones. You're good at blame, it works for you.

* * *

_I had just decided that I hate war._

_Well, I had always hated war, but never had the experience to back my opinion. But that's changed now, and I can officially say that I hate war._

_There was an explosion somewhere to my left, and I threw my hands over my head so as to protect it from any debris that might be thrown my way. I heard shouts from outside, some of them calling my name, but I paid them no heed. It was my duty to find this boy, that's why I was here. Yes, it was dangerous, but I didn't sign up to fall back because Harry and Ron were afraid for my safety. So I kept moving forward, coughing to clear my longs of the smoke._

_This was the fourth time in the past three weeks that Voldemort's Death Eaters had invaded a Muggle orphanage. It made me sick. This particular one was mysteriously lit on fire. For us, there was no mystery._

_I climbed over a broken bed, straining my ears for any sign of the boy who I was informed was trapped in the inferno. I searched the room for about twenty minutes and found nothing._

_Once I exited the room, I heard it. Shouts were sounding from down the hall, and I saw flashes of light. Wizards. That was definitely magic. The odd thing was that I was the only Order member inside. This was my assignment, and it was decided that it was too risky to send any more people in. They had to be Death Eaters._

_Trying hard not to make a sound, I moved towards the room. Sure enough I heard sneering voices. Only Death Eaters sneer._

_"—dispicable, you are," one voice spat. "If your father knew that you were refusing to help me, you would be begging to die."_

_"Leave my father out of this," came a drawling voice that I recognized to be Draco Malfoy, who had recently offered his services as a spy to the Order._

_"What can you do, boy?" the other one laughed. "Now be useful and help me destroy this place. Master said no survivors."_

_"He shouldn't be wasting his time with Muggle orphanages," Malfoy spat. "This is purposeless."_

_"It doesn't matter what you think," said the first voice, becoming angry. "And just where do you come off insulting the Dark Lord?"_

_"The same place that the Dark Lord comes off killing for fun."_

_"You are trekking in dangerous woods, boy," he growled. "People might start to think you've gone soft. Or worse, become a traitor."_

_"No treachery here," Malfoy said. "Mudblood scum doesn't even deserve to walk the earth, let alone have magic. The only reason I would ever trade sides is if I thought this side was weaker."_

_Ah, the truth comes out. Not that we didn't already know that he was only trading sides to save his own rear, this was just the first time he'd admitted it, and he didn't even know he had._

_"All I am saying is that there are more important things than burning orphanages to the ground and you're a right fool if you don't see that."_

_"Do not call me a fool," the Death Eater growled. "Help me find the brat and kill him."_

_"No, I don't think I will," he said coolly._

_"Fine, then you've left me no other choice."_

_There was another flash of light and a crash, my cue to run into the room. I yelled the Stunning Spell, and watched as the Death Eater fell to the floor._

_The room was not yet in flames, but was filled with a thick layer of smoke, I peered through the black cloud and saw Malfoy laying on the ground, pooled in his own blood. At the same moment I saw a flicker of brown hair behind a large pillar. If I left Malfoy, then surely, he would die, but I had no idea when the Death Eater would come to, and if I didn't get the boy out now, I may never be able to._

_After a moment's hesitation, I rushed to Malfoy's side and closed his wounds, praying that he hadn't already lost too much blood. Once I was positive he was no longer bleeding, I rushed over to the pillar and found the boy trembling and hiding his face in his hands._

_I coaxed him into calming down and held out my hand for him to take. He looked at me with fear and I assured him that I was trying to help him. I pulled him from behind the pillar, only to look up to see the Death Eater, smirking at me._

_There was a flash of green light and I felt the boy's grip on my hand loosen as he fell to the floor, dead._

_"No!" I screamed. I raised my wand and sent the man flying into the wall behind him, so that he was instantly knocked unconscious. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks as I grabbed Malfoy's arm and Apparated to the outside of the building._

_Instantly, there was another explosion from the building that I had just vacated, and the entire structure fell to the ground before my eyes. The tears fell freely down my face as arms enveloped me. People, I was not quite sure who, were asking me what had happened, why Malfoy was there, and where the boy was._

_"I found Malfoy unconscious inside, and I couldn't save the boy," that was all I said. It was all I could bear to say, because the truth was hard enough for me to swallow._

_The truth was that for the first time, I had killed someone. No, I had killed two people, and it was all because I had made a decision, the wrong decision. It was all because of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_

I woke up shivering, and drew my covers tighter around me as the tears begun. Tonight's dream was more vivid than it had ever been, and it scared me. I climbed out of my bed and retreated downstairs to the windowsill that I had taken to visiting. After only a few minutes gazing out at the night sky, I laid down in the fetal position and, for the first time, accidentally fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning I bolted upright when I realize where I was, and even though no one was there I blushed, and pulled the blanket up to cover myself. 

Wait, blanket? Where in the world did this come from?

* * *

Blaise: 

The next couple of days passed rather quietly, though I knew that my housemates were brewing something up. Minny and I had decided that it would be best not to anger them anymore, but ultimately agreed that we would not let their fury dictate our actions. Hermione said that by doing that she was letting them win, and she would make out with a hippogriff before she ever let them win.

So tonight—it was Wednesday—she boldly approached our table and sat down next to me. Once she did Richard Paleman, the sixth year from Friday, stiffened and glared at her. She glared back and told him to shove off. Adrian Pucey, who was sitting across from me, stuck out his hand in welcome. She took it with a small blush and he smiled.

"It is an honor to meet you," he said in his overly charming voice. It was true, Adrian was the ladies' man of Hogwarts. His charm won over more girls than Draco's looks did, probably because once the girl got to know Draco's personality, they were repelled by it. It was rather sad, actually. The thing is, though, that Adrian is a Slytherin. The charm, for the most part, is false; he only puts it on to get what he wants. It was making me sick that he was using it on my sister.

"Thanks," Hermione replied sheepishly. "Though, I rather thought you'd want to kill me, like most of your friends seem to be fancying."

"Don't worry about them," he grinned. "Besides, why would I want to kill something as lovely as you? I've heard it was a sin to slaughter a unicorn, and I have no desire to be a sinner tonight."

I rolled my eyes. _Don't listen to him, Minny,_ I told her, _he only wants to get in your pants_.

_Thanks, but you needn't tell me that, I'm no fool_, she replied.

"You talk with poetic elegance, I'll give you that," she told him, laughing, "though I never did like Cyrano."

"Who?" Adrian asked, cocking his head to the side.

"You didn't like Cyrano?" I asked, appalled. "I would have thought he was a wet dream for a girl like you."

"You know who Cyrano is?" she asked me incredulously.

"Of course I know who Cyrano is," I answered as if hurt by the question, her eyes lit up and I knew she was remembering my bookshelf. "You don't have to be a Muggle to appreciate literature. Tell me, what didn't you like about him?"

"Only that he was probably the single most stubborn, selfish character that I have ever known," she said, as if it was obvious. Adrian looked lost.

"He was afraid of rejection, girls can be pretty intimidating, you know, and he thought his overly large nose would repel her," I said. "And how can you call him selfish when he helped Christian woo Roxanne? He was giving up his chance at love for him."

"He's selfish because if he had plucked up the courage to admit to Roxanne how he felt about her, the entire play might have ended on a happier note."

"Oh, and how so?"

"Well, for one thing Roxanne would never have fallen in love with someone who was pretending to be someone they were not, Christian might not have died, and Roxanne would never have joined a convent. All he had to do was tell her how he felt and they all would have lived happily ever after, with the exception, maybe, of Christian, but he deserves someone who would love him for who he truly was anyway."

I chuckled. "I have nothing to say to that, you have officially stumped me."

"Wait, so are you referring to me as a selfish, big-nosed, coward?" Adrian asked.

"No," Minny laughed. "Sorry if I gave you that impression, I was merely referring to the fact that I'm not the kind of girl who falls for a sweet-talker. Cheesy, romantic lines aren't all that attractive to me."

"Ouch, rejection," he laughed. "Well, at least I tried. We can still be friends, right?" He pouted and held her hand in both of hers.

She laughed. "Yes, we can be friends."

"Good," he said, and lowered his voice, "because I am definitely one of the very few here who wants to be."

* * *

**A/N: alright, so for those of you who know who Cyrano is, those were my actual opinions of him, so if anyone wants to debate (as long as it is kept civil) go ahead, I look forward to it. Now, if you will, my review board awaits.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I had a _serious_ case of writer's block. I tried to remedy it by writing a few other things, like my two one-shots Pink Lady and Teardrops on a Flaming Heart (go check them out... but only after you've read and reviewed this chapter ;), but it didn't quite work. I got past it, thankfully, and here you go:

* * *

**Hermione:

To be honest, there are many perks to having Slytherin friends.

Protection, for one. Don't get me wrong, Harry and Ron have, are, and always will be my most loyal body guards (not that I need them), but Adrian Pucey and Theodore Nott (who wasted no time introducing himself and trying to seduce me after Adrian failed—earning himself a glare and the threat of a wand up his arse from Blaise) are, well, smart about it.

Information is another one. I never realized this before, but Slytherins always happen to know everything about everyone. Theodore said it was because they use the knowledge to their advantage whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Efficiency. Slytherins know how to get things done in ways that don't involve not knowing whether or not you'll survive to see the end results—which was hard for me to get used to after years of near-death experiences. True, their methods are often illegal and sinister, but as they—and I do mean _they_, because _I_ would _never_—say, "it's not illegal if you don't get caught." And Slytherins hardly ever get caught. You see, unlike Harry and Ron, they aren't rash; they plan everything out in advance, taking into account every possible scenario and detail.

I never thought I'd say this, but Slytherins come in handy. You ought to get yourself some. It is safe to say that in the month that I've been friends with those two, I haven't felt like my life was in danger once. It's a record. They should get an award of sorts.

A month has changed a lot, yet nothing has changed. The paradoxical nature of that statement probably confuses you, so let me explain.

I finally told all my teachers to refer to me as Hermione Zabini-Granger (I compromised; sure, it's hell to write out, but it makes everything else easier for me). Obviously, they still hesitate when calling on me. I think they kind of switch back and forth from Zabini to Granger.

I owl my parents—both sets, for I have come to the conclusion that I have two mums and two dads—weekly. The Grangers send back a letter with their updates plus sugar free snacks that I give to Luna (she absent-mindedly popped a sweet in her mouth before I could tell her it had no sugar and loved it—weird, yes, but she _is_ Luna Lovegood). The Zabinis send a letter to both Blaise and I and occasionally books that Damon wants me to read.

Malfoy and I have reached an unspoken agreement to not mention our almost-kiss and nothing of any significance has occurred since then—mainly because we do anything in our power to avoid being alone together. We are, however, forced into such a position during our patrols, so we compensate by not speaking to each other and walking three paces apart. Although, whenever I'm in front I get this eerie feeling he's staring at my arse. How's that for awkward?

I still get nightmares, and have taken to falling asleep on the windowsill almost every night. And unfailingly, every morning I wake up with a blanket. I have come to realize that I now almost _want_ to fall asleep in hopes of waking up and meeting the elf who makes sure I'm warm every night. It would be nice to say thank you. I never do, but I'm determined to, nonetheless.

Blaise and I have yet to connect from opposite ends of the castle, though occasionally I catch tidbits of his thoughts. I finally Owled the Weasley twins to ask if they have twin telepathy and they said that they didn't. They have a different power: they can sense where the other one is at any given time or place. That really must have made all the difference back in their prank-filled days. When I asked whether or not they told anyone, they said that they confessed to their parents, but no one else until me. Ironically, they don't want to be the center of attention or the subjects of some science experiment. I know, it shocked me as well; given who they are, I thought that would have been right up their alley.

Ginny is ever the colorful one. Her and Blaise's relationship has become quite serious, much to Ron's and Draco's chagrin and my pleasure. She remains the only sane one of our bunch, and is a good source of comic relief whenever Malfoy is acting particularly vile or Pansy's ready to flip a bitch.

Harry and Parvati are an item now, and have been the topic of gossip for a solid two weeks. Ron claims to have been "dating around." Blaise reckons he really means, "sleeping around," but wants to spare us all the awkward images and details, especially for his sister. Bless him.

The Slytherins are becoming restless. I cannot walk the hallways without being sneered at or threatened by at least five of them. Though, between my badge and my new friends' equally evil Slytherin ways, so far, no real harm has come my way. I can tell it's frustrating them.

My birthday came and went; we had a small celebration for Blaise and me in the Head common room, and I got more presents than I have ever receiced, but it wasn't really anything big.

What about me, you ask? Well, I guess all I can really say is that I have accepted where life has taken me. I am content… for now.

"So," Theodore said, taking the empty chair across me and breaking my concentration. Reluctantly, I looked up from the parchment I had been furiously scribbling on since arriving in the library after dinner. "Want to here the latest news straight from rumor mill?"

"Will it get rid of you faster if I just say yes?" I asked.

"Probably not," Adrian shrugged, pushing his dirty blond hair out of his eyes as he sat next to Theodore. "But it would help."

"Fine, just tell me so I can get back to work."

"It's about the Weasel's latest conquest," Adrian said. My curiosity was piqued and an eyebrow disappeared into my hair.

"A Ravenclaw by the name of Lovegood," Theodore said, smirking.

My jaw dropped.

"W-who?"

"You know, the weird chick with the vegetables hanging from her ears," laughed Adrian.

"Luna? You're kidding!"

"I'm as Sirius as Black."

"Where'd you find that out?" I asked, struggling to picture Ron Weasley with Luna Lovegood.

"Pothead's girlfriend's twin sister said she saw the two of them emerging from a broom closet, looking quite obviously post-coital."

"Didn't need to hear _that_ part, thanks," I grimaced.

"This morning, the two were seen again, prancing down the halls together and holding hands," Theodore continued. "She kissed his cheek and he, in an entirely-too-feminine manner, blushed."

"That's actually kind of..." I paused, searching for the right word as the corners of my lips curled upwards, "…cute."

They both rolled their eyes.

"Right, well, it's almost curfew, and I'm sure the Head Girl would not approve of being outside of our dormitories after hours," Theodore said. "Give our love to Draco."

Adrian smirked evilly. "Yes, give him a kiss for us, will you? A good snog?"

"I'm sure he'd love for you to deliver it personally, Adrian," I said, smiling sardonically at him.

* * *

Malfoy was sitting in an armchair, working on the same essay that I had just finished. He looked up when I walked in and smirked at me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him. 

"Granger," he said. I took a deep breath and turned to face him.

"What?"

"I think we need to talk," he said.

"About?" I asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb, it doesn't fool me," he said impatiently. "You know what this is about."

"I could take a guess, as well," Lord Phillip mumbled sleepily, his eyes closed.

I sighed, ignoring the portrait. "Yes, I know, but I don't know if I want to talk about it."

"You can't keep avoiding this," Malfoy said. "Or me."

"It's been working for the past month," I said.

"Well, it's not working for me," he replied coldly.

"Alright, you want to talk? Let's talk," I said. "Why did you defend me to Pansy?"

"What are you on about?" he asked with bewilderment.

"That day when she tried to get in here, she called me a Mudblood and you told her not to."

"Ah," he said, smirking. "I wasn't defending _you_, for that remark was aimed at _me_. She wasn't trying to insult you as much as she was insulting me for associating with you."

"Wrong answer," Lord Phillip sighed, shifting a bit to get comfortable.

"You are so infuriating!" I shouted. "I've been trying to let go of my prejudices towards you, trying to let go of my anger, my hatred, my _blame_. But then you have to go and open your stupid mouth and all the work that I have done in effort to _not_ hate you goes out the window. Please, I'm tired. Just show me that under all that bigotry and egotism is a human being capable of caring for someone other than himself, before I go absolutely insane!"

"It's a little too late for that," Malfoy said.

"You might want to put the shovel down, boy," Lord Phillip muttered.

With fury, I pulled out my wand and aimed it at his neck.

"Miss Zabini," Lord Phillip said loudly, now fully awake and glaring down at me, "I understand that Mr. Malfoy has provoked you, but using your wand against him will only land you in detention."

I closed my eyes and lowered my wand, before glaring at Malfoy and retreating to my room.

"Mr. Malfoy, I advise _not_ trying to get on that young lady's bad side. She looked as if she wanted to turn you into a ferret. Disgusting creatures, ferrets. Have you ever seen one?"

I laughed and shut the door behind me.

Not even a minute later, there was a knock.

"Granger, open the damn door."

I sighed exasperatedly. "What do you want?"

"Can you just open the door so I can talk to you? You don't have to say anything, just hear me out."

I shut my eyes, mentally berating myself for caving, and opened it.

"You have two minutes."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I wasn't even sure what it was he was sorry for—not because I couldn't think of any reasons, but because I could think of _too many_.

"Er, for what?"

"For—well, you know." Articulateness, thy name is Draco Malfoy.

"Unfortunately, I don't. You're going to have to elaborate."

"I'm sorry that you hate me," he said, so quietly that I almost didn't hear him.

I gaped at him, because he had just shown me exactly what I had asked him for: his human side. With a slight pang, I realized that based on what I deduced about myself—that I'm a hypocrite, remember?—I could no longer hate him without feeling guilty. He had proved to me that there was more to him than Pureblood arrogance, and now that I knew it was there, I could not go back to hating him.

"I don't," I said softly. "Not anymore."

He looked taken aback, so I rolled my eyes.

"You showed me that you _are_ capable of human emotions," I continued. "That's all I asked for, Malfoy."

He nodded and smirked, his confidence returning tenfold.

"Well, I suppose that's it then," he said smugly.

"That's what, then?" I asked warily.

"We're _friends_," he smirked with triumph.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," I said.

"By the way," he said, leaning against my doorway and folding his arms across his chest, "now that we're _friends_, we can talk about things that have thus far gone avoided."

"I'm not in the mood for this, Malfoy," I sighed.

"Well, we have to talk eventually. As _friends_, we can't have hippogriffs in the room, and right now, there are two of them."

"Oh, and what are those?"

"One, you blame me for something and you won't tell me what; two, we almost kissed."

"We did _not_ almost kiss."

"Yes, we did."

"No, we didn't."

"Deny it all you want, it still happened."

"_Almost_ happened, Malfoy. Almost."

"So you admit it."

"Merlin! You infuriate me."

"So I've heard," he smirked. "Well, I'm tired," he yawned for emphasis, "We'll continue this conversation later. Goodnight, _friend_."

"Why do you keep emphasizing the word 'friend'?"

He shrugged. "I like the way it sounds."

He winked, poked my side, and left me, stunned and confused.

* * *

That night, after yet another nightmare, I descended the stairs and took my usual spot on the window sill. The difference tonight, however, was that I was determined not to fall asleep, at least until the house elf showed up. 

I sat awake for what felt like hours, but was probably only half an hour, when I heard a door upstairs open. There were footsteps descending down the stairs, and a very disgruntled and yawning Draco Malfoy appeared, blanket in hands and completely oblivious to my sitting form.

I held my breath, hoping that he would do whatever he came down here to do and leave before noticing my presence.

Horror crept into my stomach, however, when he started walking directly towards me, rubbing his eyes tiredly. When he neared me and removed his hands from his eyes, he stopped, looking at me with shock.

"You're awake," he said.

"As are you," I replied, lifting an eyebrow.

"But you're never awake."

"I'm never..?" I trailed off, my mouth slowly dropping in shock for the second time that night as my eyes locked on the blanket he held. "It's you?"

"What?" he asked, attempting to hide the blanket behind his back.

"You—every night—the blanket?" I tried, unable to form a complete sentence in my state of utter bewilderment.

He sighed. "I came downstairs that first night and saw you, and you were shivering. I couldn't just leave you and Lord Philled-With-Shit wouldn't let me take you into your room, so I grabbed a blanket instead."

"Wow," was all I could manage. "I don't even know what to say. Thank you."

He shrugged.

I stood, somewhat hesitantly, and took a step toward him, holding out my hand.

He smirked. "A handshake? Is that what _friends_ would do?"

With that, he took my hand and pulled me into him, wrapping me into his arms in a friendly hug. At first I was stunned, but then lifted my arms to hug him back. Surprisingly, it was not at all awkward.

I rested my head on his shoulder and realized that he smelled heavenly.

With a jolt of astonishment at my thoughts, I pulled back, but due to the fact that his arms were still around me, that only resulted in our faces being mere inches apart.

I swallowed and licked my lips, not really knowing what to do.

"Er—Malfoy, can you—?"

I was silenced with a pair of surprisingly soft and warm lips covering my own. My eyes widened as he moved his lips against mine, and despite the alarms going off in my head, I found myself responding to him.

He smirked into the kiss and ran his tongue along my bottom lip, and as I parted to allow him entrance, I felt a small tug on my pajama shirt.

I broke away, appalled at my own actions, and looked down into the face of a trembling house elf.

"Kirby is begging your pardon, Miss Zabini," she squeaked. "But Professor McGonagall is needing the Head Boy and Head Girl. She is telling Kirby that it is of direst urgency."

Malfoy groaned, his arms still around me and looking annoyed at being interrupted.

"Bloody hell, it's three in the fucking morning," he said. "What the hell could she possibly want?"

"She is not telling Kirby the details, Mister Malfoy, only that she is needing you in the trophy room as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Kirby," I said kindly, stepping out of Malfoy's embrace to run upstairs to get a cloak.

When I came back downstairs, I saw Malfoy waiting for me, fully dressed. I blushed, as I was still in my pajamas.

"How did you dress that quickly?" I asked.

"Well, I'll let you in on a little secret," he whispered, leaning into me so that his mouth brushed against my ear. I shivered. "I'm a Wizard."

He chuckled, sending chills down my spine and I blushed again, embarrassed at my idiocy.

"Stop laughing at me, you know how I get in the midst of a crisis," I said, pushing his shoulder.

"How can I forget?" he laughed, taking the hand that had pushed him into his own. "'Stop, drop, and roll!' I still don't know what that means."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll tell you later, we need to go."

He nodded and pushed the portrait door open, stepping aside to let me through first.

"Such a gentlemen," I joked.

He smirked.

* * *

When we got to the trophy room, Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, and Madame Pomfrey, were all leaning over a small figure with their backs toward us. 

"What's going on?" I asked with concern. The three adults turned at the sound of my voice, and Professor McGonagall rushed over to us.

"A student has been attacked," she said.

I gasped and Malfoy stiffened.

"Who? By who? What happened?" I asked, alarmed.

"Peter Wickman, a third year Hufflepuff. So far, we have no idea who did it or what exactly happened."

"Are there any reasons that he might have been attacked?" Malfoy asked.

"Well, we did find this," she said softly, holding a small piece of parchment. "It was on the floor beside him. We have yet to understand the meaning of it."

I read the parchment and narrowed my eyes, clenching my jaw. Malfoy noticed my reaction and took it, reading it aloud.

"'_This is for you, Mudblood._'"

He looked at me with concern as I was visibly irked by these words.

"Professor McGonagall," I said slowly and deliberately, "is the boy a Muggle-born?"

She looked at me gravely before answering, "yes."

I groaned in frustration. "It's my fault."

"Excuse me?" Malfoy said. "You didn't do this, why is it _your_ fault?"

"Oh, come _on_, Malfoy, it's all there in black and white," I replied. "Slytherins resent me and are taking it out on Muggle-borns because they can't hurt me directly. The 'you' in that note is me."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

"Will he be alright?" I asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," she said. "Though, I must ask the two of you to be on constant alert in case there are more attacks. We will ask Peter what happened to him when he wakes, and I will be in contact with the two of you. Goodnight."

* * *

When we returned to the common room I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse on my bed, even though I knew I had to get up in about two hours. I climbed the stairs warily, and found Malfoy waiting for me at the top. 

"Want to read the eight-hundred page novel I wrote while waiting for you, Granger?" he laughed.

"Shove off, I'm tired," I answered, yawning.

"Too tired to say goodnight?" he asked, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing his lips to mine. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him off of me.

"We can't, Malfoy."

"You didn't have any qualms about it earlier."

"Yeah, well, I was a bit… preoccupied."

He smirked, leaning in to kiss me again. I covered his mouth with my palm and narrowed my eyes at him. He nipped at my hand and I tore it back with a glare. Taking advantage of my momentary distractedness, he kissed me again. I pushed him away and reached back to pull his hands off my waist. Finally freed from his embrace, I put as much distance between us as I could.

"Seriously, Malfoy, we can't," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

"Give me one bloody reason why not," he said, frustrated… in every sense of the word, if you know what I'm saying.

"You have a girlfriend, who would claw me to death without hesitation—not that I'd let her," I said, holding up my index finger. "I'm still trying to go from hating you to _not_ hating you, and going from that to _this_ is too much," I held up my middle finger. "We're _friends_, and friends certainly don't snog each other," I added a third finger. "See, that's three," I wiggled my fingers for emphasis. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Well, those are stupid reasons," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, well, anything more would be too complicated for your mind to get around," I retorted.

"Ouch," he mocked, placing a hand over his heart.

I smiled, shaking my head.

"Goodnight," I said, entering my room and closing the door behind me.

* * *

The next morning, I got out of the shower and slipped on the wet floor. I put a hand on the wall, feeling around for anything that would help me up, and my fingers wrapped around a small knob about two feet above the ground. 

I studied it inquiringly, as I had never noticed it before. It was painted the same color as the wall, so it blended easily, and had the circumference of about a galleon. In a rush of curiosity, I turned it, and the outline of a door glowed purple. After about a half minute, a door appeared.

My eyes widened and I stood up, wrapping a towel around myself. I pulled the door open and shrieked.

"Holy fucking shit!" Malfoy yelled in surprise and tripped over his trousers that he had been in the process of pulling on. He stood back up and pulled them the rest of the way, gaping at me as if I'd just grown five arms. "What the fuck did you do?"

Apparently, I'd opened a door that led from the bathroom to Malfoy's bedroom, and that's what I would have told him, had I not been completely distracted by his perfectly toned and naked abdominal muscles. Instead, I opened my mouth and shrugged.

"I'm—I'm not quite s-sure," I said, trying to hide the blush that was surely covering my entire face. Had I not been occupied in my attempt to obscure my embarrassment, I might have noticed the blush that graced his own pale cheeks. "I just found a knob and turned it, and a door appeared, so I opened it."

He was still breathing heavily and he just stared at me, until he finally shook himself out of it and moved passed me into the bathroom. He studied the door for a moment before crossing the bathroom to the other wall.

"Where'd you find the knob?" he asked, not turning to look at me.

"About two feet up," I answered.

He kneeled down and said, "ah," and a moment later, the same purple glow outlined another door. He pulled it open and walked into my newly revealed room.

Smirking, he turned back to face me. "It seems that our predecessors weren't chosen as Heads for nothing."

* * *

Blaise: 

Slytherin girls can be divided into two categories: those who wear way too much make up, and those who don't wear enough. A pretty Slytherin girl is an oxymoron. A virgin Slytherin girl is another one.

Millicent Bullstrode is a newly instated member of category number one.

I was currently trying to shield my eyes from the pounds of cover up that layered her face. Seriously, it was as if she was wearing one of those silicone face things Muggles use in movies and the like.

It was disturbing, to say the least.

"Doesn't Millie look great, Blaise?" Pansy asked me, smiling.

"Oh, er, yeah," I lied.

Millicent beamed and I sighed in relief when Draco showed up, looking oddly happy. His smile faded, however, when Pansy slithered next to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Was Davies good last night?" he asked her, glaring.

"Oh, don't act like you care," she bit, rolling her eyes. "Maybe if you'd be a bit more attentive, I wouldn't have to resort to that."

"What, so this is _my_ fault?"

"I'm your girlfriend, but you don't seem to give a damn about me," she reasoned.

"If you were really my girlfriend, you wouldn't throw yourself at anything with a dick whenever I wasn't around," he sneered.

"Which is quite a lot for someone who claims to be my boyfriend," she retorted.

"You know what? Fuck any guy who will take you, I'm done," he said.

"What?" Pansy said, panicking.

Millicent and I looked up in shock and awe. Sure, these fights were regular and expected, but it had _never _been taken this far. This was the first time one of them even mentioned breaking up.

"You heard me," he answered, standing up. "The only thing sadder than the fact that you've slept with practically every male student—and some teachers—at this school, is the fact that it's never bothered me. I've realized that I really don't care about you, because you're nothing but a slut and a good shag. My wish for you, is that you find someone who will put up with your shit, because I no longer can."

What came next was shocking, unexpected, and incredibly amusing: with a shrill shriek, Pansy slapped Draco pure across the face.

"Well, that pretty much seals the deal," he said, laughing. "We're over. Finally. I feel so liberated."

He smirked at her and took his leave, stalking arrogantly out of the Great Hall.

Pansy sat back down with tears in her eyes, and her best friend wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

'_Draco just broke up with Pansy_,' I told my sister, looking up at her where she sat with Potter and Weasley.

'_What?!'_ Her eyes darted to mine and she looked slightly… scared.

'_Yeah, just now_,' I said, curious at her reaction. '_Does that bother you?_'

'_What? No, no, of course not. Why would it bother me?_'

'_I don't know, you tell me_.'

'_It doesn't bother me_.'

'_Sure_.'

I didn't believe her, and I stood up to follow Draco.

'_Where are you going?_' she asked, and I could hear—or feel, whatever—the trepidation in her thought.

'_To get some answers from my dear friend_.'

* * *

**Now here's the part of the story, where the readers tell me what they thought of it. :)**

**By the way, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I'm flattered that everyone likes my story and my weird sense of humor, and I appreciate it more than you know.**

**Also, I was surprised at how many people liked my one-shot, Pink Lady, and I'm incredibly thankful to everyone who reviewed/favorited/C2'd it, it meant a lot.**

**Anyway, sorry for taking up your time. Go review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: sorry for the wait, guys. I've been uber busy and was recently introduced to the Twilight series. If you've read them, then I'm sure you all understand when I say: those books are time-consuming, brain-sucking slices of chocolate cheese cake that will haunt your very soul until you've finished reading them. Woo, melodrama! haha, anyway, this chapter is predominately a mush of random, cofusing, scattered dialogue, but a _very important_mush of random, confusing, scattered dialogue... enjoy! **

Hermione:

I took a deep breath, hoping that Harry and Ron couldn't hear the furious pounding of my heart as I watched my brother stride out of the Great Hall. My eyes flickered back to the Slytherin table where, sure enough, Pansy was crying on the shoulder of one Millicent Bullstrode.

Now, I know I try hard not to curse, but… _shite_.

Malfoy broke up with Pansy. Malfoy broke up with Pansy at lunch the day after he kissed _me_. Malfoy broke up with Pansy after I named her one of the reasons why we _couldn't_ kiss. So did that mean Malfoy broke up with Pansy _because_ of me? _No_. That's absurd.

Yet, somewhere inside me was a flicker of hope that it was true.

Uh, wait, did I say hope? What in the name of Merlin is happening to me? I shouldn't be _hoping_ that Draco Malfoy broke up with his girlfriend because of _me_. I just released my hatred towards the prat. You see? Last I checked prat was definitely not a term of endearment. And yet…

I believe there is a saying about a certain bodily secretion hitting a fan. I felt, swallowing a few times and fixing my gaze at my plate, like that accurately described the situation I was now faced with.

In less than twenty four hours I had discovered that I no longer hated someone whom I spent the majority of my life despising with every fiber of my being, kissed the aforementioned someone and enjoyed it more than I would care to admit, gave him three perfectly logical reasons why we could not continue in that manner, and witnessed him eliminating one of them.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact that the Slytherins are after Muggle-borns to prove their childish bitterness towards me.

Lovely.

"You okay, Mione?" Harry asked beside me.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," I said, nodding my head longer than necessary. I stopped, only because I felt dizzy, and rested it in my hands. "You guys coming to my common room tonight?"

_Please say yes!_

"Er—" Harry started, glancing at Parvati who was having what I am sure was a _very_ philosophic discussion with Lavender.

"Have you seen Bullstrode? It looks like the cover-up bottle threw up on her!"

"I know, she must have gained _at least_ ten pounds just by putting it on!"

See? They'll be the next Emerson and Thoreau at this rate.

"It's alright, Harry." _No, it bloody well is _not_! Screw Parvati—wait, no, that's not right… _forget_ Parvati and save me from Malfoy's evil, yet oh-so-alluring clutches!_ "Ron?"

He blushed, glanced at Harry, and mumbled, "I have plans."

"What sort of plans?" I asked, knowing it was about Luna yet wondering if Harry even knew. He should know, though, I mean, as it was Padma who found out about it, and she _must_ have told her sister, who is the biggest gossip queen at this school and also dating Harry, so it doesn't take someone with my amazing cognitive skills to deduce he really _should_ know. Though, judging by the look he was giving Ron, I seriously doubted that he _did_.

"Yeah, what sort of plans, mate?"

"You didn't _hear_!" shrieked Her Royal Highness. "Goodness, if I had known he didn't tell you, I would have done it myself _ages_ ago."

This, consequentially, is quite the hyperbole as it was a relatively recent development, but that's just a technicality.

"Ron's dating Luna Lovegood!"

Ron paled and sank down on the bench, looking as if he would prefer being trapped in a broken lift with Crabbe, Goyle, Snape, _and_ Arogog, than at this table at the present moment.

Harry's jaw, naturally, was hanging just above his belly button. He glanced at me and frowned.

"You don't look nearly as surprised as I am."

I waved a dismissive hand. "I knew about it last night." Catching his, Ron's and even Parvati's questioning looks, I hastily added, "Adrian and Theodore told me."

Harry frowned at my choice of friends, but continued the conversation nonetheless.

Now that the "Who" part of Ron's plans had been established, the other four "W's" were being brought up and I found I really didn't want to be there when they were discussed, so I dismissed myself. I considered returning to my common room for free period, but then remembered that there was a good possibility of _him_ being there, so I opted for the library instead.

Upon arrival, however, I remembered that Blaise and Malfoy were off talking somewhere and I hesitated. The naturally curious side of me was screaming at me to go find them and have a listen, but the logical side of me was telling me how utterly impossible, impractical, and… curse my inability to come up with another "imp-" word, thus maintaining the parallelism I was aiming for, but… generally rude that would be. Unfortunately, at the moment, my curious side got the best of me.

Don't worry, though, because my logical side is a fighter and made me compromise.

'_Blaise, where are you?_' I asked, knowing it was useless since we still hadn't mastered the whole opposite-ends-of-the-castle thing. It didn't matter though, because I really only wanted a ready-made excuse to go looking for him. This way, if I got caught, I could honestly say that I tried to ask him first.

'_Your common room,_' Came his reply. Merlin. My eyes went wide.

'_Blaise! I'm in the Library!_'

'_And your point would be… Oh! Hey! We connected!_'

'_Very good, Nancy_.'

'_Who?_'

'_Drew_.'

'_Is it Nancy or Drew?_'

'_Both_.'

'_So, you're calling me a hermaphrodite?_'

'_No, never mind, it's a Muggle thing._'

'_Muggles are hermaphrodites!_'

'_No, Blaise. It's a book_.'

'_You _read_ about hermaphrodites!_'

'_She's _not_ a hermaphrodite! Her name is Nancy Drew! Merlin, just forget it. Remind me never to make references to anything Muggle around you_.'

'_Will do. So, did you just want to know where I was and insult my masculinity, or is there more?_'

Bugger. Now I was stuck, because I honestly didn't think he would respond. What to do now?

'_Did you want to come up?_' he asked when I didn't respond.

'_Oh, er, you and Malfoy aren't talking about anything private, are you?_'

'_Ah, now I see. If you're referring to Pansy, then no, not anymore._'

I don't mean to be repetitive or anything, but… bugger.

'_Oh, ok_.'

'_So you're coming?_'

'_Fine, yes, I'm coming_.'

So ten minutes later I found myself in front of a severely disgruntled (well, more-so than usual) Silvia.

"Horklump."

"So you've seen him, too?" she growled.

"What? That's, er, the password."

"Yes, yes, my apologies," she said bitterly, but before she could swing open I placed my palm firmly against the portrait to keep it closed.

"Who were you talking about?"

"That horrid man that lives in the portrait inside."

"Lord Phillip?"

"Don't say his name, stupid child!" she snapped.

"What's wrong with Lord Ph—er, him?"

"He's a sorry excuse for a man, that's what."

"How do you know him?"

Silvia looked at me condescendingly, as if I was mentally challenged.

"I've been the guardian of this tower for over three hundred years," she said with an air of impatience.

"Oh, right. And I take it you don't like him very much, do you?"

"Ah, now, I see why they made _you_ Head Girl. Brilliant little thing, aren't you?"

"Why don't you like him, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well it just so happens that I _do_ mind, so if _you_ don't mind, I'd appreciate if you release me and go on your way."

I complied, letting her swing open, and entered my common room.

"Hey, Minny," Blaise said from the couch, beaming. Malfoy looked over and smirked smugly.

I smiled, avoiding Malfoy's gaze, and sat in an armchair. I looked up at Lord Phillip, who didn't look happy.

"Lord Phillip? Is there something wrong?"

"Not at all," he said sarcastically.

"Is it something to do with Silvia?"

Blaise and Malfoy both sent me curious glances, and Lord Phillip puckered his face as if he'd just licked a lemon.

"That banshee outside the tower? Yes, but I'd rather not talk about that wretched woman."

I shrugged and brought my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

"So, Draco, did you know that Muggles are hermaprodites?"

"Blaise! They are _not_!" I insisted, but he ignored me.

"What? Where'd you hear that?"

"Oh, Hermione told me earlier."

I sighed with frustration as Malfoy laughed.

"Are they really?"

"_No_," I said. They both pretended they didn't hear me.

"Yes. Apparently, Nancy Drew is their leader," Blaise said.

"Honestly, Blaise, she's a fictional character!"

"And a hermaphrodite."

"**No**, she solves crimes."

"Wait, so you're saying that Muggles actually trust a fictional hermaphrodite to bring justice to their world?" Malfoy asked, appalled.

"That's not what I am saying _at all_. Nancy Drew is a fictional _female_ who brings justice to a _fictional_ world."

They both looked at each other laughed and I glowered at them.

"Minny, I'm sorry if the androgynous nature of Muggles is a sore topic for you, but in my defense, you were the one who brought it up."

I rolled my eyes. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, I got one," Malfoy said, the smug smirk returning to his face. Oh no. "Did you see Pansy after lunch?"

I groaned internally.

"I broke up with her, you know."

"I know."

"What? How?"

"Blaise told me."

Blaise's head snapped toward me, his eyes wider than the Fat Lady's waist line. Wow. Granger: Two; Fat Lady: Zero. What _is_ my problem?

'_Fuck, Minny, why'd you say that!_'

'_Slipped!_'

Malfoy looked between the two of us with narrowed eyes.

"How could Blaise have told you if he followed me out of the Great Hall immediately after it happened?"

'_Help, Blaise! What do I say?_'

'_Hell if I know!_'

"Er, he… uh… he…"

'_Blaise!_'

'_Minny!_'

"Alright," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "What's with you two? It's like you can communicate with each other telepathically."

…

…

"…"

"…"

'...'

'...'

"_**What**_! You _can_!"

I grimaced and Blaise sighed and looked away. Thankfully, Lord Phillip was in his usual state of slumber, because I'm sure if he'd heard this it would have gotten back to the Headmaster. The last thing I wanted was for Professor Dumbledore to be fascinated with us.

"Yes," Blaise said begrudgingly.

"I don't believe it," Malfoy said.

"It's true," I said. "It's a twin thing."

"I still don't buy it."

"Fine, Blaise tell me what Malfoy's greatest fear is."

Blaise smirked and Malfoy went pale… well, pal_er_.

'_Mermaids_.'

I laughed. Hard.

"You're afraid of mermaids!"

"Damn it, Blaise, you could have made something up!"

"But then how would you know we were telling the truth?" he asked innocently.

Malfoy glared at him, which caused me to laugh harder.

"Alright, so you two are freaks. I don't like it."

"Well, that's too damn bad," Blaise said.

We looked at each other and laughed.

"What did you say about me?" Malfoy demanded.

"Nothing, don't get all paranoid," I said.

"What do you expect? Now that I know you can confer privately, I don't think I can trust the two of you."

"We'll try to refrain from saying anything negative about or concerning you," Blaise said, "_if_ you promise not to tell anyone."

"Fine," he said. "People will probably commit me to St. Mungo's if I tried to tell them, anyway."

"Probably," I agreed.

"So, anyway, what do you think?" Malfoy prompted.

"About?"

"About how I broke up with Pansy."

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, what _do_ you think about it, Minny?" Blaise asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"As long as you're happy, I suppose."

"And single," Blaise added with a wink.

I blushed, which made both of them smirk.

"I think I'll go to my room to get some studying done," I grumbled. "I'm not sure if I like this topic either."

"No, don't go, we'll change the subject," Blaise said apologetically.

"Yeah, we'll talk about Weasel and Loony," Malfoy suggested.

"You know about that?" I asked.

"Hermione," Blaise laughed, "everyone knows about that. He isn't exactly discreet about it."

'_Minny, do you like him?_'

"It's rather sickening, actually. I didn't even know the Weasel was 'big' enough to function properly in that sort of situation."

'_Like who? Ron?_'

"Yes, well you can imagine how 'sickening' it is for Ginny and I."

'_No, Draco_.'

"I can see how it would be traumatic for Ginny, but not so much you, Granger." 

"See, Ron is practically my brother, and I could really do without hearing all the nitty gritty details of his love life."

'_Of course not. What would make you think that?_'

"Didn't you two have a thing, Minny?"

'_I mean you and Draco, by the way_.'

"No."

'_No_.'

"That's interesting, that's not what we heard."

'_That's not what I heard._'

"Well, then, Malfoy, you heard incorrectly. Who told you?"

'_And you?_'

"The Weasel himself."

'_The Ferret himself_.'

"What!"

'_What!_'

"Granger, fifth year he told anyone who would listen. He told people that over the summer you admitted that you only dated Krum to make him jealous."

'_He told me what happened last night. That's why he dumped Pansy, Minny._'

"Are you kidding me!"

"Nope."

'_Nope. Admit it, you like him._'

"That's absurd!"

"Well, it's Weasley… so no, not really."

'_Not from what he told me. He knows you enjoyed it._'

"He lied."

"Of course, I see that now. That's so _like_ the bloody fire-crotch."

'_You so _like_ him_.'

"Fine, I like Malfoy!"

Oops. My hands flew to my mouth and blood rushed to my face.

Blaise snickered and Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to go find Ginny," I said through my fingers, before jumping to my feet and racing out the portrait.

I didn't stop running until I reached the Fat Lady. The higher powers must have felt bad for putting me through that, because just as I opened my mouth to speak the password, Ginny opened the door and nearly knocked me over.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" I said and dragged her into the nearest bathroom… which was one floor down and three corridors over, so she must have received nasty rug burns, but—forgive me for being so careless—I wasn't too concerned about that.

The moment we entered, I locked the door and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Hermione?" she asked, finally able to say something. "Was there a reason for this abduction, or did you just have a sudden desire to experiment with your sexuality? I mean, if that's the case, I'm flattered, but I really can't help you. I am happily taken and as straight as Marrieta Edgcombe's unfortunate chest."

"Ginny, now is so _not_ the time!"

She laughed. "Sorry, Mione, so what's this about?"

I sighed and told her everything, from that night on the couch with Malfoy when we almost kissed, all the way to me blabbing that I liked him.

Her eyes were wide when she finally spoke up. "You and Blaise can communicate telepathically!"

"Are you serious? Out of everything, _that's _the only thing you pick up on!"

"I'm kidding," she said. "Though, I still _do_ want to hear about that."

I rolled my eyes.

"So, you like Malfoy?"

"Yes, well, apparently my mouth knew it before my brain did."

"Well, I knew it before your mouth even did."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, I see the way you look at him when you think no one's watching."

I groaned. "Fine, so I guess I have to admit that I kind of do. But I can't for the life of me figure out why. Ginny, he's the reigning arse of England. How can I _like_ him?"

"I agree," she said. "You must be going insane. I honestly don't see anything that could make you like him. Have you gone absolutely bonkers? I didn't think Head Girls were allowed to be nutters."

"Well," I said defensively, "when he's _not_ being an arse, he's actually pretty friendly, and funny, and intelligent. And those eyes. You can _not_ look into those eyes and think that he has no depth. Especially when he looks at me right before he kisses me. There's something there, like a book waiting to be read; a mystery waiting to be solved. And he's so caring. I know that sounds weird, but he brought me a blanket every night! How can that not be caring? And then when we found out about the attack on the Muggle-born, he seemed genuinely concerned about me. Oh, and of course there's the whole body-of-a-Greek-god or something. And I feel so safe in his arms; almost as if—"

I broke off, finally noticing the smirk that graced her features.

"You did _not_ just use reverse psychology on me, Ginny Weasley!"

"Oh, I totally did and you fell for it harder than Humpty Dumpty!"

I groaned.

"You've got it bad, girl," Ginny said sympathetically.

"I do. I really, stupidly, irresponsibly, and pathetically do."

And that was my mantra for the remainder of the day, until I finally found myself back in the comfort of my dormitory, reading Pride and Prejudice. Again. On a Friday bloody night. Alone.

"Granger," came the siren song of a drawl from my new bathroom doorway.

Damn. I guess I spoke too soon.

"Malfoy," I acknowledged, not looking up from my book. I still wasn't quite ready to face him after this afternoon's faux pas.

"Granger, look at me," he demanded.

Shya, like he can tell _me_ what to do.

"No."

"Hermione," his voice was softer now.

I could literally feel my resolve melting and gathering on my bed in a pool of liquid patheticness. Is that a word? Well, if it wasn't… it is now.

Seriously, since _when_ did Draco Malfoy call me Hermione?

"Draco." I winced. "Ah, can we just stick to surnames? That's a little too weird for me."

Truthfully, it wasn't weird at _all_. In fact, it felt so natural that it was almost as if I'd been waiting my entire life to say those five letters. Hence, it was very, _very_ weird.

"You can still call me Malfoy, but now that I've used Hermione, I can't just say Granger anymore."

"Well, you know what they say about going black."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Never mind," I blushed. I really need to work on my humor. I can be so witty in my head, but it's always lost in translation. "Did you know the Fat Lady's knickers are handy storage compartments?"

"What?" he asked again, even more confused. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

Bugger, I can't even use my Fat Lady jokes out loud. I guess they're better if kept to myself.

"Nowhere, just feeling a bit frustrated."

I still hadn't looked up at him, so I was startled when I felt the side of my mattress sinking.

"What are you doing on my bed?" I asked, finally meeting his eyes.

"Trying to get your attention," he responded.

"Well, you have it," I said irritably. "What do you want?"

He kissed me. Ah, that.

It was much briefer than the previous ones, and for that I was both thankful and so very disappointed.

"Do you really like me?" he asked.

"Did you really break up with Pansy because of me?"

Oops, he never actually said that, did he?

"Blaise told you that," he guessed, amused.

"Sorry," I muttered, looking away.

"No, it's fine," he replied, cupping my chin with his hand and directing my eyes back to his. "Yes."

I smiled, because I couldn't help myself, and kissed him. I was slightly surprised at my own actions, as this was the first time that I had initiated it. But when his tongue slipped past my lips, I damned it all to hell and kissed him back with fervor.

"Does that answer _your_ question?" I asked breathlessly after we'd broken apart.

He smirked and nodded.

"Good, because I don't think I could live through saying it again," I replied honestly, causing him to laugh and capture my lips with his in a chaste kiss.

"What about you?" I asked sheepishly.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you, er, like me?"

"I thought I made that obvious, Granger," he said. "Of course I like you."

"So not to sound all corny and cliché," I said, "but where do we go from here?"

"As much as I hate to say this," Draco (wow, that was easy) said, "I honestly don't think we need to give the Slytherins any more reason to hate you. And dating me would definitely do that."

"Right," I agreed, feeling a lump in my throat from the disappointment. "Harry and Ron wouldn't be too happy either. So, I guess we can't date."

"What!" he asked incredulously. "That was _not_ what I was aiming for! I was going to say to hell with them all! If that means we can't tell anyone, then so be it. Granger—Hermione, I _want_ you."

Alright, ladies, if a guy has ever said that to you, I'm sure you can describe the feeling better than I can right now. In the meantime, I need to take a moment to compose myself.

"Really?" I asked, once my ability to think clearly and form coherent words returned. "I mean, you said it yourself, and I quote: 'just because she's my girlfriend doesn't mean I have to like her.' I'm not going to be your plaything."

"Did you really just use the word 'plaything?'" he laughed.

I glared at him. "Be serious, please."

"Hermione, what Pansy and I had is nothing compared to this," he said, gesturing back and forth between the two of us. "For one, I can actually tolerate you."

I laughed. "Now."

He chuckled. "Yes, now. Listen, I may not know how a functional relationship works, but I'm a quick learner."

I sighed, still unsure.

"Hermione, I really like you," Draco said, "and that's weird for me, because I've never been this attracted to a woman. Unless you count my massive crush on Celestina Warbeck when I was five."

I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"My point is: this is different, but I'm ready for change."

I searched his eyes for sincerity, and found so much of it that it caused my breath to catch.

"Okay," I nodded.

"Good," he said and sealed it with a very long, passionate, toe-curling kiss.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Damn. The shite definitely just hit the fan.

* * *

Blaise:

I woke abruptly, heart pounding, throat dry, and a curiously ominous feeling looming in the pit of my stomach. I searched my mind for the cause of this unusual happenstance, and found it quickly.

My dream. No, _Hermione's_ dream.

Tonight was the first night I'd sensed it since summer, the result of our reconnection earlier today. Oddly, tonight was also the first night that I'd actually seen the dream in its entirety and clarity. I finally understood what was happening, and it gave me a broader perspective on Hermione's situation.

I pulled myself out of the covers and went to the basin passed the other four beds, not worrying about waking their occupants because there were none. Crabbe and Goyle fell asleep on the couches in the common room after consuming too much to be able to function properly, and Adrian and Theodore found themselves twins and were off shagging them somewhere.

Splashing water on my face, I took a deep breath.

So _that_ was why Hermione had been so adamant in her refusal to befriend Draco in the beginning, and why she was having so many issues with being attracted to him now. I felt bad for her, but also knew that she had to get over this, and I'm positive that getting to know Draco better will do her some good.

Draco's not a bad person—contrary to what others like to believe. He was brought up on the wrong side of the bed, I suppose you could say. His father taught him who to hate and how to hate them, and like any normal seven-year-old son would, Draco ate it all up. Fortunately, he's come to understand that his father is a bastard, so he's given up the my-dad-is-a-superhero ideology. Just because he acts like a pompous arse now, doesn't mean he really is… that much. 

The war also changed him a fair bit. A lot of people presumed he only switched sides to save face, and while that was partially true, it wasn't the entire story. The truth is that his mother confronted him one night about his allegiance with Ol' Voldy, telling him (well, that's putting it nicely… more like screamed at him) that he's becoming just like his father. The "just like his father" part was what did it. He bolted faster than Crabbe from broccoli.

Suffice it to say that Draco's pretentious attitude is a mere sliver of his true persona, and it's what people take of him at face value.

"Blaise," came a groggy voice from my bed, "come back."

I chuckled softly and slipped into my covers, pulling the slender figure next to me closer and kissing the top of her head. She settled herself on my chest and sighed.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Gin."

* * *

**A/N: All in all, definitely not my best chapter, but I'm not perfect, nor do I pretend to be. Let me know what you think, please. But be nice, I had a hard time writing this... those damn books kept calling to me. hehe. Actually,I will tell you a funny story, when I finished the second one, I went to start the third and realized I couldn't understand it...**

**see, in my haste to buy it, I forgot to make sure it was in English. If I hadn't just barely passed Spanish, I might have said to hell with it and tried to read it anyway, but alas, the only word (not countingthe ones that I already knew)I remember from that class is "leche." Milk... :). Not too helpful in translating a six-hundred page novel. haha**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So I wrote a little poem for you all, and it goes a little something like this: ahem**

**_"You Know You Wrote A Bad Chapter When..." by GetItWrite_**

**_You know you wrote a bad chapter when_**

**_you get a significantly lower amount of reviews_**

**_and you have a feeling deep in the pit of your stomach_**

**_that it sucked._**

**Yes, I'm no poet, and I know it. Sorry it was so bad, hope this one is better.

* * *

**

Hermione:

I couldn't breathe. My ribs felt as if the weight of a hundred hippogriffs was being pressed upon them with unrelenting force.

I feared for my life. Any moment now, my lungs would collapse and the light would leave my eyes. _Fight this, Hermione_, I encouraged myself. _You've faced worse than this._

"Gin," I struggled to whisper, "Can't… breathe."

And then it was gone, and my lungs returned to their healthy size.

Unfortunately, her excitement was _not_ gone.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm just so _happy!_" she exclaimed. In an act of mercy, she stopped herself from hugging me again and compensated by grabbing my arms and jumping up and down.

It was hard not to smile, but I tried to keep my face nonchalant as I grabbed her hands and pried them off of me.

"Seriously, Ginny, someone will _hear_," I scolded her, looking around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. We were in the far corner of the library, having escaped from Harry and Ron a mere five minutes ago, from whence I proceeded to tell her that Draco and I were now an "us." I still wasn't sure of our status, so I thought "us," was the most accurate word to use.

"Oh, no one's going to hear," she said once she had calmed down a bit. "So I take it your not telling _them_."

"Of course not," I replied. "I've had enough near death experiences to last me a lifetime, I don't need another one any time soon, if at all. I'm sure Draco feels the same."

"Yes, they'll probably chop his dick off and bake it into a pie," she said ponderously. "And we both know that there is a _much_ tastier use for it."**(1)**

"Ginny!" I said, swatting her arm.

"Too soon for sex jokes, eh?"

"Way too soon," I sighed.

"Sorry," she said without sincerity and shrugged. Then she smiled and hummed. "Oh, I'm so happy for you."

She was practically singing. I scrutinized her face with narrowed eyes until finally something clicked.

"This mood you're in," I said slowly, "it's not only for my benefit, is it? There's something else, isn't there?"

"Damn you and your perceptiveness," she said, though her smile seemed to get bigger, if possible.

"Well, what is it?" I asked impatiently.

"Last night, Blaise and I—"

"No, stop!" I squealed, covering my face with my hands.

"Hermione, it's—" she tried.

I held out one of my hands and whimpered.

"Oh, come on—"

I whimpered again and pushed my hand out further.

"Mione, it's only sex!"

I grimaced and pressed my fingers to my temples, squeezing my eyes shut in attempt to clear my mind of the images threatening to take over.

"Yes, between my best friend and my _brother_," I grumbled.

"True," she said, shrugging again. "Damn, I guess I have to find another confidant."

I sighed. "You know you can tell me about anything concerning your relationship with Blaise, just… not _this_."

"I know, I was only kidding," she replied. "I guess I can understand. I mean, if you were dating Ron and wanted to tell me about…" she shuddered. "Well, I won't make you go through that."

"Thank you," I laughed.

"Yes, well, I'm sure soon you'll have enough to share for the both of us."

And before I could swat her arm again, she winked, turned, and skipped away happily, humming all the way down the aisle.

* * *

"Theodore, would you _please_ take your feet off of my homework?" I asked with annoyance, before pushing them off myself. They fell to the floor with a thud.

"Sorry, Gryffie," he said, putting his feet back on the table away from my work. "Old habit."

"Yes, well, your 'old habit' caused the ink to smear."

"You've got a wand, haven't you?"

I glared at him and fixed the parchment with my wand.

"Hey, mate," Adrian said to someone who had just sat down at our table. I was so immersed in my work that I didn't bother looking up to see who it was.

"There are plenty of other tables at this library, so if you are incapable of remaining silent for an extended period of time, I suggest finding yourself a less occupied one. As Head Girl, I won't hesitate putting you into detention for the rest of the year if you distract me."

"Bad news, Granger, I can just as well put _you_ in detention."

I looked up and had to fight the smile that was creeping onto my face. Draco winked when Adrian and Theodore turned their heads to face me.

"Leave, Malfoy," I said in a cold voice, wearing my hardest glare. Had to keep up pretenses, see?

"Naw, I don't think I will," he replied, sitting back in his chair, his feet joining Theodore's on the table.

I shook my head in disapproval but ignored them and returned to my work. My mood was inexplicably brighter—alright, so it wasn't _that_ inexblicable—and I realized a moment too late that I was smiling down at my parchment.

"Never knew Transfiguration excited you that much, Granger," Draco laughed.

"Oh, it doesn't," I said brightly. "I'm just thinking of ways to torture you."

"Hear that, boys? Granger's kinky."

I blushed deeply as the other two laughed appreciatively. The glare that I threw at Draco was no fake one this time.

"I think I've overstayed my welcome," he said, throwing me a slightly apologetic glance as he stood. "I'll just be in our common room, Granger."

"Thanks for the information," I replied dryly. "Though, I really don't care _where_ you go as long as it is far away from _here_."

He smirked.

"Your wish is my command," and he left.

"Still at each other's throats, eh?" Adrian asked.

I looked away and bit my lip—the mental image that question arose was not at all an unpleasant one—and nodded distractedly.

"Ah, well, I'm sure you two will rub off on each other eventually."

Oh Merlin, this is too much. I licked my lips and swallowed.

"Er, I think I'll go as well," I said, as the image intensified. "You know, find Harry and Ron, or something."

They both looked at me oddly but said nothing as I packed my things and said goodbye.

I practically ran to my common room, nearly shouted the password, and as well as dove through the door and straight into Draco's waiting arms. I didn't even stop to say hello before dropping my bag, throwing my arms around his neck, and claiming his lips with mine.

"Ahem."

Oops, forgot about him.

I pulled back, my horror-filled eyes meeting Draco's amused ones, and turned towards Lord Phillip, who was watching us with interest.

"Sorry," I said meekly.

"Do you know of Lily Evans and James Potter, Miss Zabini?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then you should know you have nothing to be sorry about. It is a very natural part of life. You will, however, do well to keep things at an appropriate level; else I shall have to involve the Headmaster."

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I'm just going to go upstairs."

Draco smirked as I pecked him on the cheek somewhat hesitantly and retreated to my room.

I really should be more careful; our goal was to keep our relationship a secret, and I'd already ruined it. Two people knew, and both because of me. I was definitely going to have to be more careful.

Draco walked through the doorway to the bathroom before I could think about it any further, and he smiled.

"I'm sorry," I said, sighing. "I wasn't thinking. I understand if you don't want—"

He shut me up with his lips and soothed me by running his hands down my arms.

"It's alright," he said. "I told Blaise; I only thought it was fair since he was the main reason we're together. I figure he'll tell Ginny as well—that is, if you haven't already. That's only three people, all of whom we know won't tell anyone else, so don't worry."

I sighed again. "When did you get to be so wonderful?"

"I believe it was the day I was born. Apparently, I almost blinded my mother with my perfection. The doctors thought I might have had a bit of Veela blood in my system, but my mother assured them that the only blood that was in Lucius Malfoy's body was cold-hearted, pig-headed bastard blood."

I chuckled. "Your poor mother. I can imagine what it must have been like living with both you and your father."

"My mother?! What about me? Can you imagine being so perfect with such imperfect parents? It was exhausting."

My eyes met the ceiling in exasperation.

"Did you get all your homework done?" he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"No, can you believe it? Some brain-dead twit distracted me," I replied, placing my hands on his chest.

"Aw, the Weasel showed up? I almost wish I hadn't left."

"Very funny," I said. "Anyway, I really should get my work done. It wouldn't do for the Head Girl to fall behind on her studies."

"Oh, come on, you have to be at least two weeks ahead!"

"Three weeks," I mumbled sheepishly.

"Three! Merlin, Granger, you really need a life!"

"I _so_ have a life!"

"Spending your free time reading, talking to Blaise in your head, and talking to anything with red hair or glasses does not qualify as having a life," Draco explained.

"Does it not? Besides, I talk to Adrian and Theodore," I reasoned.

"No, it does not. And Adrian and Theodore aren't even worthy of being mentioned," he laughed.

"Insulting members of your own house, Draco? Isn't there some sort of Slytherin brotherhood in that you're all supposed to have each other's backs, or something?"

His face turned serious and he took a step back with my hand in his and placed it on his crotch. My heart rate increased and I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Feel that, Hermione?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," was all I could manage.

"_That_ is a symbol of my manhood, representing the fact that I am _not_ a Gryffindor, which further proves that petty concepts such as _loyalty_ that a _Gryffindor_ would concern himself with do not pertain to me. So in answer to your question: no, there is no 'brotherhood' and we certainly do not have each other's backs for _anything_. Any one of them would throw me to the lions if it would be beneficial for them or enhance their reputation."

"Right," I whispered. "Can I have my hand back, please?"

He smirked and raised my hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on my palm before lacing his fingers through mine.

"It's going to cost you," he grinned, leaning in to kiss me.

"Hmm, well I might have a spare sock I can lend you so that you can stuff it down your pants and pretend you actually have something there."

"Ouch. You're going to pay for that, Granger!"

He lifted me off of the ground and threw me on the bed, tickling me mercilessly.

"Okay, okay!" I gasped between laughter. "I give up! I surrender! My white flag is up, Malfoy, let me go!"

He stopped tickling me and lay on his side next to me, kissing me softly. "I win."

"You may have won the battle, yes, but you will never win the war."

"Original."

I stuck out my tongue at him.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"We have about an hour until dinner."

"Perfect, that's just enough time for a cold shower," he winked. I blushed and pushed him off the bed. He smirked at me as he straightened up and muttered, "prude."

As he walked towards the bathroom I pulled my wand out of my robe, muttered a handy spell that Fred taught me, and waved my wand at his back.

He stepped through the door, then turned back at me and grinned. I wiggled my fingers in a playful wave and bit my lip to hold the laughter in as he closed the door. A second later the door opened again and his glowering face reappeared.

"Did you do this?" he demanded, pointing to the mop of thick, ginger hair atop his head. I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle the laughter and nodded. "Fix it."

I shook my head this time, smirking.

"Damn it, Granger, I look like a Weasley!" he whined.

I laughed harder and he growled.

"Okay, okay," I said, controlling myself. "Have your shower, and I promise I'll fix it when you get out."

"You'd better, because I am _not_ leaving this room looking like a sodding Weasel."

He slammed the door shut again and I heard the water turn on.

About a minute later Malfoy groaned.

"Fuck, Granger, not _there_ too!"

* * *

I sat across from Blaise that night, and I am perfectly willing to admit that Draco was the most prominent reason that I did so. Though, nobody else has to know.

Draco showed up a couple of minutes after me, as we didn't want to raise suspicion by walking into the Great Hall together.

"Hey, Fire Crotch," Blaise said as he sat down next to him.

"You told him!" he hissed at me.

"Of course I told him, you prat," I said menacingly, for the benefit of anyone who was listening. I winked discreetly to let him know that I was only acting. "There's no glory in it if nobody knows what happened. I gave him the complete mental picture."

I knew that he would understand that last part, and that nobody else would.

Draco clenched his jaw and glared at the two of us. He leaned in closer to Blaise and spoke so low that only we could hear him.

"I thought you said you wouldn't say anything negative about me," he whispered.

"Yes, when you are _around_," Blaise clarified. "We don't need to be able to communicate telepathically to talk about you behind your back."

"Hey guys," Ginny said, sitting down on the other side of Blaise. The boy next to her—who had already been glaring at me—tensed.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Richard Paleman said. "It's bad enough that we have a Mudblood Gryffindor, now a Blood-Traitor, dirt-poor one too? This is the _Slytherin_ table, not the bloody circus!"

"Shut the fuck up, Paleman, before I send your Pale arse to detention," Malfoy said angrily.

Ginny and I exchanged weary looks. I had to step in before Draco blew our cover.

"I don't need you to stick up for me, Malfoy," I bit, warning him with my eyes. I really thought, however, that his intentions where noble, and reminded myself to thank him for that later. "Richard, what my counterpart, here, is trying to say is: calm down or you will be serving detention for the next week. There are no rules specifying who can and who cannot sit at each table, but there are rules concerning the proper etiquette when you are speaking to your peers."

"Fuck off Mudblood," he sneered.

"Detention, Mr. Paleman, every day of this week," I said smugly. "You will receive an Owl concerning the time, date, and location tomorrow morning at breakfast."

He glared at me but said nothing more.

"Ginny," I sighed, "why _did_ you sit here? You realize you just signed your own death warrant?"

"Well, I figured if you could sit here, then why can't I? I'm not afraid of these bloody wankers, especially Richard Paleman," she was talking loud enough that I was sure he could hear her. "In fourth year I beat him at arm wrestling—it was a bet—and fifth year he tried to punch Micheal but hit the poor kid standing next to him instead. Honestly, I'd be more afraid of fighting my Aunt Muriel."

I laughed, glancing over at Richard, whose face was a deep shade of red and fists were clenched on the table.

"Hello, Gryffie," Theodore said, sliding into the seat next to me. Adrian sat down on the other side and draped an arm around my shoulder.

"How do you fare this fine evening, milady?" he asked smoothly.

"Very well, thank you," I laughed. I chanced a look at Draco and noticed that he was grinding his teeth together so hard that I was afraid they might fall out of his mouth. With a twinge of pleasure, I realized he was jealous.

Adrian's hand moved to the back of my neck, and he leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"I couldn't help but notice that you were in a hurry to leave the library earlier," he said. I blushed, hoping he didn't suspect anything. He noticed my reaction and smirked. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Just be honest, is there anything going on between you and my blond-haired friend over there? Nod your head to indicate that there is."

I nodded and he grinned.

"So if I do this," he said and pressed his lips right underneath my earlobe, "he will probably get incredibly angry with me and want to murder me while I sleep?"

I blushed and nodded again, looking over at Draco, whose stance now closely resembled Richard's.

Adrian had looked as well, and removed his hands from my person with a wide grin. He then leaned across the table and said something to Draco that I couldn't hear. Draco glowered at him murderously as he leaned back and draped his arm over me again.

"Get your fucking hands off of my girlfriend," Draco hissed.

Someone upstairs must have been feeling incredibly generous, because no one seemed to have heard. Nevertheless, I was still shocked at his possessive choice of words. Girlfriend. I was Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. And I liked it. A lot.

Ginny beamed at me and I beamed back.

Adrian and Theodore laughed, and I looked at them with a confused expression.

"Finally, mate," Theodore said. "We weren't sure how much longer we could take watching you torture yourself over her. Congrats on finally growing a pair and sealing the deal."

Adrian removed his arm, once again, and extended it to Draco, who took it somewhat awkwardly.

"Sorry if I made either of you uncomfortable, just thought I'd speed up the process, you know?"

Draco glowered.

* * *

"So what did Adrian say to you?" I asked a few minutes later, as we sat on the couch in our common room waiting for the others to arrive. Draco had his hand on my knee and was absent-mindedly drawing circles on it with his finger.

"You don't want to know," he grumbled, his face turning sour.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," I replied, running my hand up and down his arm.

"Fine, let me amend that: _I_ don't want you to know."

"Why not?" I asked, incredulously. "If we're going to have a relationship, you're going to have to get used to sharing things with me."

"You want to talk about sharing things with each other?" he asked, angry. "Hypocrisy is unbecoming of you, Granger. You have yet to 'share' what it is that you blame me for."

"That's irrelevant," I said firmly.

"How so?"

"Because that's not what this is about!" I yelled. "I only asked you what Adrian said, why is that such a hard question to answer?"

"Fine, you want to know what he said?" he sneered. "He said he was glad you were no longer a Mudblood so he can get you into bed without feeling filthy. Are you happy now?"

"He was kidding," I said quietly.

"You know, I don't think he was," he said.

"Oh, I get it," I said. "You were jealous, and you didn't want to admit it, so you compensated by acting like a right bastard… as if that would actually help your case."

"I was _not _jealous!" he spat. "Go fuck Pucey for all I care, I hope you don't contaminate him."

_Slap!_

"Welcome back, Hermione," Reality said, cradling its tingling hand with a smug smile on its face.

I cannot believe that I had actually deluded myself into believing that I could have a functional relationship with Draco Malfoy. It's virtually impossible to hold a functional _conversation_ with him; a relationship is crossing the border into Canada because you saw a penny on the street and having to go through hours of customs just to get back into America… not bloody worth it.

I scowled and stood up, folding my arms across my chest.

My timing was impeccable, as at that precise moment Blaise, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Crabbe _and_ Goyle all walked through the portrait door. The former two looked concerned at our expressions, but the rest merely sat down as if nothing was amuck.

"We missed you at dinner, Mione," Ron said.

"What about me?" Ginny asked.

"Eh, not so much," he joked. She punched him, and his face hardened as if he was trying to suppress the wince that threatened to leave a permanent scar on his masculinity. Maybe he'll get lucky and it'll be shaped like a lightning bolt. People will call him the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Get-Beat-Up-By-His-Kid-Sister.

He merely rubbed his arm, yet still nobody doubted that he was in pain. Ginny smirked triumphantly and Blaise took a subtle step away from her, gazing at her nervously.

'_Remind me not to get on _her_ bad side_,' he told me.

'_Sure_,' I replied, not meeting his eye.

'_What's up? You two don't look so happy_.'

'_It's nothing_.'

'_Fine, I'll believe that… for now._'

He and Ginny sat on the couch next to Crabbe and he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at me and nodded.

"Uh, Hermione, want to show me where you're bathroom is?" she asked innocently.

"It's upstairs, middle room," I replied, narrowing my eyes at her.

She smirked again, knowing that I was trying to avoid her. "Okay, fine, I was really only trying to be discreet about the fact that I'm on my period and need a tampon. Oops, guess that one didn't work out too well."

Every guy in the room cringed. Touché, Ginny. Touché.

"Fine," I said, and started up the stairs without her.

When we reached the bathroom door she opened it and pulled me inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

"Okay, what happened?" she asked.

I scowled. Hermione Granger-Zabini does not like to surrender.

"You're doing it again," she said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You're getting defensive, I can see those little wheels turning in that expansive mind of yours," she said. "You always get this face… like a "Hermione strong, Hermione no give in so easy, Hermione kick you in butt!" kind of face. It's quite frightening, actually."

Hermione Granger-Zabini does not talk like a caveman!... Third person is not the only characteristic of caveman vernacular, at least I use proper grammar.

"Seriously, Mione, you look like you want to fry Malfoy's face in a vat of hot oil."

"I do," I said angrily.

"Why?"

"We argued."

"About…?"

"Adrian."

"Elaborate, please, Hermione," she pleaded, placing her hands over my folded arms comfortingly.

"You know what he was doing at dinner, right?" I said. She nodded and the words started spilling out. "Well, he said something to Draco that I couldn't hear, but it made him really angry. So when we got back here I tried asking him about it and he got all evasive and refused to tell me. Then, when I finally got him to tell me he was so butt-hurt about it that I realized he was being stubborn and couldn't admit that he was jealous. I told him as much and he told me to go… well, you know… Adrian and he wouldn't care. He even said that he hoped I didn't 'contaminate' him. It was like nothing had ever happened between us. I just don't understand how he can so easily return to being the Mudblood-hating, cold-hearted bastard so easily. No, wait, I do understand and I'm angry with _myself_ for thinking that he really was different from who I thought he was."

"Hermione, I know you might hate me for saying so," she said. "But I think your being a _little_ melodramatic, here."

"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my brow in confusion.

"I just mean that every couple fights," she said. "You wouldn't believe the arguments that Blaise and I get into, but we work it out. Just like you guys, I'm sure you'll work this out."

"I don't know, Gin," I said. "Draco and I are just two different people, and I don't think it's possible to just 'work it out.' It's never that simple with us."

"Just promise me that you'll try," she said.

"Fine, I'll try," I replied. "But I don't think it will work."

* * *

Blaise:

Draco watched as Hermione ascended the stairs, a mixture of anger and guilt on his face. I didn't need Minny's brains to know that something was up.

"Hey, guys, I think we're overdue for a night in the Slytherin commons," I said. "I heard Paleman was going to fight that fifth year who slept with his girlfriend, that might be a show worth seeing."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded enthusiastically, rising to their feet and Draco merely grunted.

"C'mon, mate, I know you'd love to see Paleman knocked out," I tried.

He nodded and stood as well.

"Potter, could you tell Ginny that I…" my voice trailed off at the glare Weasley sent me. "Nevermind."

We left Potter and Weasley on the couch, Crabbe and Goyle trying to run down the halls, tripping each other as they went and guffawing. Draco rolled their eyes at him and I purposefully slowed our pace.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked with bewilderment.

"Minny was upset and you looked guilty. Why?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you already?" he asked with a trace of ridicule in his voice.

"No," I said slowly. "What should she have told me?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That I am a complete arse."

I sighed as well.

"Look, I'm not going to pry for details," I said. "I just think that whatever you said or did to make her upset wasn't worth protecting your pride for. Don't look at me like that, mate, I know that's the only reason you would have said something that pissed her off. Fix it or I'll fix you."

"Threatening me?" he asked, his lips twitching.

"That's what brother's are supposed to do to their sister's boyfriend, right?" I asked.

"Has the Weasel threatened you?" he asked, amused.

"See, that's different, because he'd break every bone in his hand if he tried to punch me, and he knows as much," I reasoned.

He laughed. "Alright, I'll try to work things out with Hermione."

"Just… be careful."

"Are brother's supposed to warn their sister's boyfriend against her, as well?"

"No," I replied. "But friends are supposed to warn their best mate if his girlfriend is a stubborn genius who could burn his dick off with a simple flick of her wand. Then you'd _really_ earn the name Fire Crotch."

* * *

**(1): Shout out to pstibbons. If you're reading this... that was for you. ;)**

**Um, review. Yeah, that's not a request. I've given up on those.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I love you all. Seriously, I got 25 reviews after posting the last chapter... that's a record for this story. :).**

**And some of you mentioned how you were laughing so hard that family members looked at you like you were insane... I love that. It makes me feel as if I'm not alone in this cold, cruel, white, blank, padded-walled world. No, I'm kidding, I know I'm not alone. I have the girl who lives in the room next to me and looks exaclty like me... she just can't come through that shiny window.**

Hermione:

I woke up in the middle of the night again. Only this time, it wasn't because of a nightmare. In fact, if I was a little more awake, it might have registered that my dreams were a little foggy. It was like I was listening to the radio and driving under tunnels; I only got fragments of it. The weird thing was, in some of those snippets of my dream, Blaise was there, comforting me.

However, this night I was awoken by the return of Kirby, the house elf. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and blinked a couple of times to see her clearly through the darkness.

"Miss is needing to wake," she whispered—or tried to… if a bull-horn could whisper, that's what it might have sounded like.

I groaned.

"Miss is needing to go see Professor McGonagall in the Hospital Wing," she said, shaking me.

"Okay, okay," I said groggily. "I'm up. Thank you, Kirby."

I sat up and stretched, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Kirby is begging your pardon, Miss," she squeaked, "but Kirby is wondering where Mister Draco Malfoy is? Mister is not in his room when Kirby is looking."

"Check the Slytherin commons," I said as I stepped out of bed. "That's where he went earlier."

"Kirby is thanking you, Miss," she said before disappearing with a loud pop.

I didn't bother getting changed, as I was still half asleep and could hardly concentrate on walking straight. Instead I just threw robes over my pajamas and tied my hair up in a messy ponytail.

By some miracle, I made it to the Hospital Wing without pulling an Enrico Pollini, and found Draco and Professor McGonagall waiting for me.

Draco avoided my gaze, but I was too tired to care. He looked as if he'd taken an hour to get ready, which made me feel entirely inadequate.

"Was there another attack?" I asked, and then yawned.

"Yes, a Gryffindor fifth year," she replied. "Amanda Mayer. She is also Muggle-born. She was found conscious but dazed. I made it halfway down here with her when she collapsed."

"Did she say anything while she was conscious?" Draco asked.

"Nothing coherent," Professor McGonagall answered. "Only mumblings."

"Did the last one remember anything about his attack?" he questioned.

"No," she replied sadly.

I looked at the fragile-looking girl lying on the bed and wondered how anyone could be so cruel as to attack innocent, defenseless people simply to prove a point. She had a slash on her right cheek, caked in dried blood. It didn't look deep, but there were probably more that the bed sheets were covering. Guilt flooded through my system, and I hugged my chest in attempt to block it. Nobody deserved this, especially not because of me.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, Draco was looking at me. He held my gaze.

We were still looking at each other when Madame Pomfrey entered with a towel and a basin to clean the girl's wounds.

"I am going to need the two of you to patrol every night in addition to the Prefects who are already scheduled," Professor McGonagall said. "This cannot continue."

I finally tore my eyes away from Draco's to look at her, and nodded.

"Very well," she said. "You may return to your dormitories."

We both left in silence. I was walking two paces in front of him, like we had done on our patrols before this whole thing between us.

I didn't say one word to him as I walked through the portrait door, and went straight to my dorm without even acknowledging him. I know I promised Ginny that I would try to work things out, but I also knew that Draco had to be the first to apologize. It wasn't that I was stubborn—well, not completely—but mainly because he was the one who was in the wrong, and no matter how overdramatic I'd been, I couldn't disregard that.

I took off my robe and let my hair loose before slipping into bed. I turned onto my side, my back facing the door to the bathroom.

I was almost asleep when I felt him slip in behind me. Draco tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek softly. He wrapped an arm around my waist and lowered his lips to my ear. My eyes blinked open.

"What happened down there," he whispered, "was not your fault. Don't feel guilty for something that you didn't do, it will eat you up inside. I don't want my girlfriend eaten."

If I wasn't still bitter about our argument, I would have melted right there and then, and possibly laughed at the absurdity and possible Freudian connotation of that last sentence.

When he realized that I wasn't going to respond he continued.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier," he said. "You were right, I was being a bastard because I was jealous, and that's inexcusable. What I said to you is unforgivable. All night, I couldn't stop thinking of the look on your face when I said it, and each time I see it, it hurts a little bit more. I know no matter how much I apologize, it will never erase that, but I'm going to try, anyway."

Sighing, "I don't want to do this right now. We have to talk about a few things, but I'm too tired for it."

He was silent for a moment, but kissed my hair and removed his arm. I felt him getting out of the bed.

"That doesn't mean I don't want you to stay," I said softly. He stopped moving, and I turned my head to look at him. I gave him a small smile that he returned and moved to my back. He laid down next to me again and pulled me into him.

"I really am sorry," he whispered.

I shushed him, snuggled into his chest, and was asleep within minutes.

* * *

I left the room the next morning before Draco had even woken up. I wanted to mull over his apology last night so that I could completely curb my bitterness and have the ability to remain rational when the time came to actually talk about things.

Communication was going to be the hardest part of this relationship. Between my stubbornness and his pride, the level of honesty and forwardness was bound to be low. Thus, it was inevitable that we would both have to sacrifice a little in order to make things work.

My sacrifice this morning was losing the opportunity to allow my still-fresh acrimony to overtake me and force me to do something I'd regret… like permanently attach his foot to his mouth. (That would make kissing a little awkward. Oh, and there was the whole eating-and-drinking thing, but that's not all that important, right? We could just put nutrients in a tube and shove it down his nose or something. But I'm getting ahead of myself here…)

I had also decided to make a more permanent sacrifice. One thing that Draco had said in our argument truly did hold merit: I really was a hypocrite. From here on out, I am giving up hypocrisy and going on the patch.

I met Ginny in the Entrance Hall for breakfast. They were having an early morning Quidditch practice, which meant that Ginny was up against her will and not exactly in a pleasant mood.

She grumbled in greeting and we both moved towards the Great Hall. Our way, however, was suddenly obstructed by a very angry Pansy Parkinson and a mean-looking Millicent Bullstrode.

Great. Whoever decided that this was going to be the way my day started off was going to have Hell to pay.

That's right, I just threatened Fate.

"How _dare_ you Imperius Draco," Pansy sneered.

Woah. Slutfacesaywhat? Did she just say what I _think_ she said? I know she's a little, er, _delusional_, but I didn't think that it was to such extremities that she'd be in need of psychotherapeutic treatment.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" I asked.

"You heard me. Take the Imperius off of him, or I'll tell the Headmaster," she threatened.

See, the thing about threats is that they are only threats if the person doing the threatening actually has a legitimate reason to threaten the person they were trying to threaten. Translation: the bint was crazy.

Ginny snorted, which she promptly disguised as a coughing fit when Millicent did a fairly accurate impression of banshee with laser vision.

"He is not under any curse, Pansy!" I said indignantly.

"Then what _are_ you doing that made him break up with me?" she asked angrily.

"This may come as a shock, Parkinson," Ginny said, "but nobody needs outside influence to be repelled by you."

Pansy glared at her before turning back to me.

"I know you're doing _something_ to him," she said. "And you had better stop if you know what's good for you."

With that, she grabbed Millicent's arm and steered her away from us.

"I love that," Ginny said, watching the two girls go with a hand over her heart.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You love when people with low I.Q.'s accuse you of doing something completely ridiculous?"

"Don't be stupid. No, I love when you talk to girls so incredibly hideous that it makes you feel like a freaking _Veela_."

"Ginny!" I said, appalled.

"Oh, come on," she said. "It's not like you don't feel it either."

I wanted to deny it, and tell her that she was rude to even say it, but I remembered my metaphorical patch and sighed.

"Fine," I said. "You're right, we all do. But that doesn't make it any less arrogant."

There. Compromise.

"I hate that you have morals," she joked, shaking her head.

Ginny, Ron, and Harry ate in a hurry and left the Great Hall after only ten minutes. I still wasn't finished eating, but I didn't really want to be alone. Seamus and Dean were sitting a few seats over from me so I started to discreetly scoot down a little with the intention of making it appear like I was part of their conversation.

Before I could make any sort of progress, however, Adrian was sitting down next to me. A few early morning Gryffindors looked up at him with scowls. Not exactly early morning people now, are we?

"What are you doing?" I asked him. "You shouldn't be here."

"There are no rules concerning who can and cannot sit at each table," he said, repeating what I had said to Richard the night before.

"That's not what I meant," I said, sighing. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Draco isn't very happy with you and, to be perfectly honest, neither am I."

I pushed my plate aside and rose to my feet, a little disappointed that I couldn't finish my toast. Adrian stood to follow me and fell into step beside me.

"If this is about the way I acted last night," he said, "I did it for your benefit."

"Well, you did more hurt than help," I told him as I began to climb the stairs.

"Then I apologize," he said. "Wait, you two didn't break up because of me?"

He had tried to make that sound as if he were concerned, but the blatant hope that shone through his eyes negated any trace of worry.

"No," I said, rolling my eyes.

He sighed and then smiled. "So, no big deal, right?"

"Wrong."

"I don't get it," he said.

"You wouldn't get it if Professor Snape spelled it out on his bare chest and danced naked in front of you."

"Well, obviously," he laughed. "You don't really think I'd be _look_ing, do you?"

"No, I suppose not," I said with a small smile. I was becoming uncomfortable; the words he had said to Draco kept popping into my head whenever I looked at him. It was hard to believe he could have meant that seriously, and I sincerely wanted to believe that he only said it to force a reaction from Draco. The thing was that part of me knew I'd be lying to myself if I did believe it.

It saddened me that my new friends still thought that Muggle-borns were scum. I guess I couldn't logically think that since they were friends with me now, any prejudices that they had before could simply disappear, but it was worth hoping for. In the back of my mind, I had a sinking feeling that Draco, too, might still feel negatively towards Muggle-borns. How could I not see that?

I said goodbye to Adrian and decided to swing by the Hospital Wing to check on Amanda. For some reason, her attack affected me much more than the last one, probably because she was a more accurate representation of myself.

When I got to there, I was surprised to see her fully recovered, showered, dressed and reading a book on a chair next to a bed whose occupant was facing away from me.

"Amanda?" I asked, confused.

She looked up and raised an eyebrow at me. Her eyes flickered to the Head Girl badge that I wore on my chest and her mouth formed a small "O". Then she smiled and stood, extending her hand to me.

"My name's Christine," she said, then pointed her thumb behind her towards the bed. "Amanda's twin."

"Oh," I said, shaking her hand. "Professor McGonagall never mentioned a twin."

She shrugged.

"I'm Hermione—"

"Granger-Zabini, Head Girl. I know." She smiled again. She sat back down and didn't say anything else, but picked up her book and continued reading.

"Er—how's your sister?" I asked.

She looked up again, this time slightly agitated, but quickly covered it with another smile.

"Oh, she's doing fine," she said. "Should be okay to leave by the end of the day."

"Do you know anything about what happened last night?"

She took a breath and shook her head. "Umm, she was on her way back to her commons when it happened, I wasn't there."

From the way she bit her lip, it seemed like there was more to the story than what she was giving me.

"Do you know where she was before that?" I asked.

She looked back down at her book before answering. "I'm not really sure, no."

"Look, I'm just trying to help figure out what happened to your sister, I'm not going to get you into trouble."

"Well, she was in my common room, actually," she said, looking up at me again. "I'm in Ravenclaw, see."

"Right, and you were afraid that I'd bust her for curfew if you told me?"

She nodded and looked away again, as if ashamed.

"Well, don't worry," I said. "I won't. Just remember the next time either of you are in each other's commons that the curfew was set for a reason, and your sister is a prime example of that."

She nodded again and the smile returned—bloody smile… it was getting a wee bit annoying and looked as if she'd torn it out of a magazine and plastered it onto her face.

"Thanks, Hermione," she said, returning to her book once more. I took that to mean that she was done talking to me.

I knew there was nothing more I could ask—or wanted to, rather—so I left.

Since I had run out of places to hide, so-to-speak, I returned to my own common room. When I got to my room, Draco was no longer in my bed and I heard the shower running. I sighed and took out my unfinished Transfiguration essay and worked on it until the water shut off.

After allowing him a few minutes to get dressed, I knocked on the bathroom door. It opened and Draco gave me a small smile. He was wearing all black, his button-up shirt unbuttoned to reveal his hard abdominal muscles. He was towel-drying his hair with one hand, and the other hand was on the door. I inwardly cursed him for looking so bloody gorgeous when I was trying maintain my composure. Ravishing him in the bathroom while trying to hold a discussion about a serious issue would be worse than getting irrationally angry with him.

"Where were you?" he asked casually.

"I ate breakfast with Ginny, Harry, and Ron," I said quietly. I turned away from him and sat on my bed. He sighed, tossed the towel onto the counter, and came to sit next to me. We sat in silence for a minute or two before he finally spoke up.

"Are you still angry with me?"

"I'm not sure if angry is the right word," I replied, looking down at my hands.

"Pissed off? Livid? Enraged? Splenetic?"

"Thank you, Mr. Thesaurus," I said with a small laugh.

"And she laughs!" he said. "So, it can't be that bad, then, can it?"

I gave him a sad smile and bit my lip.

"Hey," he said softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. "What's really bothering you?"

I took a deep breath, remembering that I would have to work hard to get this communication thing down.

"It's just that," I paused, searching for words, "what you said last night—"

"Hermione, I am _so_ sorry for what I said to you. I didn't mean it, honest. It was just my pride refusing to allow me to admit my jealousy."

"Let me finish," I said, taking his hand in mine. "I was referring to what you said about what Adrian told you."

"Oh," he said. "And?"

"Well, it just had me thinking," I stopped again and bit my lip. Did I really want to bring this up with Draco?

_Yes, Hermione_, Angel whispered. _Communication is the key, remember_?

_I guess that's a good policy, unless said key unlocks the cage of a rabid squirrel, _Demon responded, cackling like a hyena on drugs.

I took another breath and summoned my determination. He squeezed my hand encouragingly—Draco, that is, not Demon.

"It just made me remember that Adrian still holds prejudices against Muggle-borns," I said quietly. "And that maybe… well, maybe other people I have learned to trust still do, as well. People like…"

"Like me," he finished.

I sighed and closed my eyes, nodding.

"And I suppose what I said at the end of our spout encouraged that thought along, didn't it?" he asked. I bit my lip and he cursed to himself. "Look, Hermione, I'm going to be completely honest with you. A relatively large part of me still thinks that Purebloods are superior to Muggle-borns, and you can't expect me to give that up so easily. If it is any consolation, I no longer believe that they are filthy and un-worthy of magic, and I definitely do not agree with whatever dunces are attacking them in the middle of the night."

Well, it was more than I could ask for, really. It surprised me that we just had an honest conversation with each other, but it surprised me even more that I was okay with what he said. Sure, I hated that he was still arrogant and thought of himself above Muggle-borns, but I could live with haughtiness. I wouldn't have been able to live with antipathy.

I smiled. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"For being honest," I replied. "It helped. A lot."

He cocked his head as if to ask, "Are we okay?"

I kissed him, at first with a few small, soft pecks, but then I pressed my lips firmly against his and deepened it. We broke apart after a few moments and he smiled, before placing a light kiss to my palm.

"So, after I ate breakfast, I went up to the Hospital Wing to see Amanda," I told him. He quirked an eyebrow, beckoning me to continue. "She has a twin, Christine, who's in Ravenclaw."

Draco frowned. "And Amanda's in Gryffindor, right?"

I nodded and his frown deepened. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said and his frown disappeared as if it had never been there. "Go on."

"Oh," I said, looking away thoughtfully. "Well, anyway, Christine was acting very ambiguous, and I felt as if she was hiding something from me, but she was so… so… well, I'm not even sure how you'd describe her. She was friendly enough, but it was all rather… fake, I suppose. At any rate, she didn't exactly seem to want my company, and I wasn't really keen on providing it, so I didn't stick around to pry. I wish I would have though, because I still feel as if she was being evasive."

I looked back at Draco, and he appeared to be thinking as well. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn't even heard what I had said.

"Draco," I prodded. He seemed to be in a trance. "Draco, are you listening to me?"

He ignored me, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to remember something.

I sighed. "Draco, let's have sex."

His eyes darted to mine in complete surprise.

"Well, now I know how to get _your_ attention," I laughed.

He scowled. "Tease."

I rolled my eyes. "What's with you, anyway?"

He shook his head and stood up. "I'm going to go find your brother."

"Is everything okay?" I asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded. "Just, uh, left my wallet in his room last night."

Right, and _I_ am an ancient Egyptian princess come back from the dead to haunt my lover-turned-murderer's ancestors. It's fun making up stories.

"Here, let me," I said, going along with his lie for now.

'_Blaise, Draco's looking for you_.'

'_You two work everything out?_' was his response.

'_Not that it's any of your business, but yes. Where are you?_'

'_I'm heading to breakfast, tell him to meet me there._'

"He's on his way to the Great Hall," I told Draco.

He smiled and pulled me to my feet. He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheek, my jaw, and then the spot just below my earlobe where Adrian had kissed me last night.

"Just so we're clear," he whispered huskily, "no one is allowed to kiss you but me, okay?"

"Fine with me," I replied.

He kissed my lips and let me go, moving toward the bathroom door.

"Oh, and by the way," I said, "Pansy thinks I've Imperiused you."

He looked back at me incredulously and laughed. "Don't worry about her; she was dropped a lot as a child."

I smiled and he winked, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

With nothing to do but wait for him to return and tell me why he _really_ went to see Blaise—and believe me, he _will_ tell me… or he may experience what it's like to be on the receiving end of my Shrinking Charm, if you catch my drift—I went down to the alcove to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch practice.

The view was quite nice, actually. It was a little higher than the stands were, and, of course, further away, but that meant that the players were practically at eye level, and I didn't have to strain to see them. The distance also meant that I wouldn't get a crick in my neck from snapping my head back and fourth to follow the action.

The practice was obviously coming to an end, and soon Harry blew his whistle and signaled for the team to land. Four players descended below the stands and out of my vision, but Harry and two red-heads remained, the latter two hovering mere feet a part.

Squinting, I realized that they were having a shouting match. Harry flew between them, holding their broomsticks to ensure they didn't plow into each other out of anger. Ron was pointing an accusing finger at Ginny, and in return she held up another type of finger.

Suddenly, Ron jerked his broom to the side and violently out of Harry's grasp, sending him spinning out of control, the tail of his broom hitting Ginny hard in the side and knocking her off of her own.

I gasped and yelled, "Ginny!" as she plummeted to downwards. Harry and Ron dove down after her, but I didn't see what happened as they all disappeared from my sight.

Without a further thought, I raced out the portrait door as fast as my feet would carry me.

* * *

Blaise:

"Crabbe, I want my twenty galleons by the first Hogsmeade trip," I said, as entered the Great Hall.

"Bloody Paleman," he murmured. "I swear that guy's robbing me blind."

"No, mate, _I_ am robbing you blind," I reminded him. "Besides, it's nobody's fault but your own that you keep betting on him. The kid couldn't be any weaker if he was made out of feathers."

"Well, I figure it's sort of like the boy-who-cried-wolf thing," he said. "Paleman has to win eventually, and when he does, nobody else will have bet on him. Could you imagine the sort of profits that could come from that?"

I laughed. "It still wouldn't be enough to pay off your debt from the last seven fights he's lost."

"I suppose not," he sighed.

We sat at the table across from Adrian and Theodore, and the first thing I noticed was that Pansy was wearing her I-smell-rotten-eggs expression—which only differed from her usual face in that she looked a little… er, puggier.

"What's up your arse, Pansy?" Goyle asked. Good, so it wasn't just me who noticed.

"Wow, that's weird," Adrian said. "I'm so used to that question starting with 'who.'"

Pansy sent him that "oh-ha-ha" look that all girls tend to have an affinity for.

"Like I'd tell _you_," she sneered. "You're all just as bad. In fact, the bloody Mudblood probably has all of you spelled, as well. I swear to Salazar, when I find proof, that horrid _filth_ is history."

"If you're talking about my sister," I said angrily, "I think you're a little bit mixed up."

She scoffed. "That's _just_ what someone under the Imperius would say."

"Why are you so Hell-bent on proving that Hermione's using spells on us, anyway?"

"Well, she's got all of you at her feet like bloody servants, and it's making me sick," she whined. "Nobody can achieve a feat like that without _some_ sort of trickery."

"Not all of us can be manipulative bitches like you, Parkinson," came a female voice down the table. Every head flicked into the direction of the new voice, and Pansy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll choke on a fly.

"I'm sorry, _Greengrass_," she spat, "but I don't recall inviting you into our conversation."

Daphne just shrugged and went back to her breakfast. Five pairs of shoulders slumped in disappointment; we were all looking forward to a good girl-fight.

It was then that Draco made his appearance at the door. Our eyes met and he jerked his head to indicate that he wanted to speak to me outside the Hall. I excused myself and walked over to him.

We absent-mindedly began to walk up the stairs.

"What's up?" I asked.

"The other day," he said, his eyes narrowed, "when you were telling me about you and Little Red…"

"Yeah?"

"Where did you say—?"

"Move, move!"

I looked up just in time to step to the side and avoid being steamrolled by a very frenzied Head Girl.

"Minny, what—?"

"It's Ginny!" she shouted at me, yanking the oak doors of the castle open. "She fell off her broom!"

* * *

**This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is commonly referred to as a cliffhanger... hehe.**

**Enrico Pollini is the narcoleptic Italian from Rat Race if you didn't get that.**

**You know, I think it was the whole not-requesting-thing that got me all of those reviews. I think I'm going to stick to that. That means no more... "review?" Oh, no, that's too weak. No, from now on, I'll leave with this:**

**Review.**

**Never underestimate the power of the period.**

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys, I am so, _so_ sorry for the wait. There really is no excuse, so all I can do is apologize. I hope I didn't lose all my readers.**

**But thank you for those of you who _did_ review. I'm flattered that so many people like my story, and kind of amazed that people actually appreciate my humor. I know it's kind of weird.**

**And just to forewarn you, I graduate June 5th and then my schedule is as follows: I leave for mexico with my church (to build houses) June 8th, don't get back till the 15th, I have a week off, then I go to orientation for the college I'm going to next year the 25th-27th. Then the next day I leave for Australia, and won't be back until July 9th... then July 11th to the 18th, I'm going to a beach house with my family. So basically, I won't be updating all that often for a couple weeks. But until then... I have all my a.p. tests this week, and my only classes that _aren't_ a.p. are Photo and Intro to Business... so I'm pretty sure I'll be able to update faster. :)**

**Again, sorry for the wait... and enjoy:**

Hermione:

Now here's a little known fact about me: whenever the situation calls for it with a substantial amount of urgency, I can run pretty damn fast. The problem is, however, that I am terribly out of shape. Thus, it was unsurprising that I had to slow down halfway between the castle and the Quidditch Pitch in order to catch my breath.

I heard the sound of padded footsteps behind me and turned to find that Blaise and Draco had followed me. They caught up with me and stopped altogether, Draco holding my arm to get me to stop as well. I was going to demand that he let me go, until Blaise let out a sigh of relief, gazing in the direction of the pitch.

What happened as I followed his line of vision seemed as if it came straight out of the movie of Hermione Granger-Zabini's life.

_(Soundtrack: Pretty Handsome Awkward, The Used, intro)_

_(Slow Motion)_

_Three figures walk out of the Quidditch Pitch, one raven-haired and two redheads._

RON_ looks to be struggling between being angry and feeling guilty, while _GINNY_ looks absolutely livid. _HARRY _walks between them as the mediator, though he, too, looks upset._

_They draw nearer to their concerned friend and walked past her without even looking at her._

HARRY_'s shoulder grazes _HERMIONE_'s, none too gently, while his eyes are fixed in front of him._

RON_'s eyes are locked threateningly on _BLAISE_, as he steps to the side to avoid _DRACO.

GINNY_ grabs _BLAISE_'s hand and pulls him with her, smirking at _RON_ defiantly._

HERMIONE _and _DRACO_ are left behind, watching their backs as they retreat towards the castle. _HERMIONE _looks at _DRACO _with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow and he shrugs._

_(Track scratches to a halt and motion returns to normal.)_

HERMIONE: Hey! Wait a minute!

(_Scene fades)_

They continued to walk, ignoring me. Blaise glanced back at me apologetically, though I really couldn't blame the poor guy… Ginny's always had an affinity for leashes.

"Guys! Can somebody please explain to me what the hell happened out there?"

Ginny stopped and turned to face me.

"Hermione, I fought my fight and I said what I needed to say," she said. "This is no longer about me; it's between you, Harry, and my arse of a brother."

"Ginny, I watched you fall off of your broom!" I said incredulously. "I saw how it happened, as well, so don't try to make out like you're not a part of this."

"Like I said, Mione, I've _done_ my part," she reminded me. "By the way, I'm on your side, so it's not my head you should be biting off."

I groaned in frustration. Draco ran his fingers up my arm and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"Look, go after Potter and Weasel, I think it's them you should be worried about," he kissed my cheek. "I'll see you later."

I nodded my thanks and ran to catch up to them.

Never in my life had I been so confused. Less than five minutes ago I was scared for Ginny's life, and now I was concerned about an argument between myself, Harry, and Ron that I hadn't even known I was in.

"Harry! Ron!" I called. "Slow down!"

Neither of them looked back, so I sped up and fell into step beside them. Ron's ears were beet red and the steam pouring out of them gave the illusion that his head was on fire. Harry was deliberately avoiding my gaze.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," I said. "Will one of you please explain to me what is going on? Ron, what were you and Ginny arguing about?"

He laughed harshly and finally stopped to looked at me. "You."

"Me?" I asked incredulously. "What about me?"

"Well, you… and Zabini… and Malfoy… and Pucey… and Nott," he replied, counting them off on his fingers. "You know, your new friends… the ones you've ditched us for."

"Ditched you?" I asked, shocked. "You think I've ditched you? That's ridiculous."

"Mione, how often do we hang out?" Harry asked.

"Every weekend!" I said.

"How often did we used to hang out?"

"Oh, Harry, you know you guys aren't allowed in my common room during the week," I said.

"True," Ron snapped, "but _you_ are allowed in _ours_."

I opened my mouth to reply, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"And even when you go to the library, who do you hang out with?" Harry asked. Thanks, Harry, kick me while I'm down.

"You guys _hate_ the library, and they actually—!"

"Actually, _what_, Hermione? Actually study?" Ron asked. "Are we too stupid for you?"

"That's _not_ what I meant!"

"It sure as hell sounded like it!"

"You guys are _so_ overreacting!" I shouted.

"We're not," Harry said. "It's like ever since you became a Zabini, you've forgotten who you were when you were a Granger."

"I still _am_ a Granger! I'm the same person I was three months ago; the addition of Zabini to my last name does not change that!"

"No, Mione," Ron said. "You're not the same person. The old Hermione wouldn't have forgotten about _us_. We used to be best friends… all three of us, but now you're one of them. What's more, is you're taking Ginny with you."

"I can't help the fact that Ginny's in love with Blaise," I said defensively. "Ginny has a mind of her own and she can do as she pleases. And as for me, I haven't forgotten about you, and I am insulted that you would think so low of me."

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said. "You hang out with Adrian Pucey and Theodore Nott, who's next, Malfoy?"

I looked away shamefacedly and Ron scoffed.

"You can't be serious!" he said incredulously. "I suppose you two are all buddy-buddy now, eh? Well, isn't that ironic, you and the one who tormented you more than any other fucking person here for being Muggle-born. Tell me, does he still cringe every time you touch him? Does he still gag every time you sneeze? Is he still sickened by your very presence?"

"Of course not, Ronald! How dare you say that to me?" I yelled, angry beyond measure. "You have no right to judge him, because you know nothing about him! He's different now, and, frankly, I don't care if you don't see it, because I do and that's all that matters. And you know what else? I wasn't going to tell you this, because I was afraid of how you'd react, but now, well, that doesn't matter anymore: Draco is my boyfriend. Don't bother coming to my common room next weekend. Goodbye."

I left them glued to the ground, jaws dropped, eyes wide, faces red, and staring at my retreating back as if I was Merlin, himself, risen from the dead.

As I entered the castle and made my way to my common room, I couldn't help but feel ashamed of the way I'd spoken to them. In my defense, Ron had no right to speak about Draco the way he did, and I didn't deserve to be attacked for something that is out of my control.

I knew, though, that they were right; I _had_ ditched them. Let me tell you, being wrong feels just as horrible as being fully submerged in cow dung, and admitting you are wrong is like opening your mouth.

Wow, I just grossed _myself_ out… maybe that was too harsh of a metaphor. At any rate, to someone like me, cow dung _is_ an accurate representation of erroneousness.

But I digress.

If I was anyone _other than_ Hermione Granger-Zabini, I might not have even made it to my common room before turning around and apologizing to them for so inconsiderately forgetting about them. But the fact that I _am_ Hermione Granger-Zabini, plus the fact that they probably want my head on a shiny, silver platter—okay, more like a rusty, ancient, silver platter (I don't think they think I'm worth the shiny one)—because of the little confession I made, kept me from doing so.

Besides, they were wrong too.

They were wrong if they thought I was any different today than I was before. They were wrong if they thought I was _intentionally_ abandoning them. They were wrong if they thought they could pass judgement on someone without even knowing them.

Bugger it all to hell, I think my patch is starting to wear off.

Still, my inability to avoid hypocrisy aside, they were wrong... just like I was wrong when _I_ judged him. There, compensation.

All thoughts of Harry and Ron flew from my mind as if they were Pansy running from an abstinence pledge when I arrived at the portrait door, however.

Seeing the old and gray guardian of the Heads of Hogwarts tower locked in a grotesquely passionate embrace with the equally old and gray live-in chaperone of said tower does that to a person.

It took a moment for me to completely swallow down the bile that arose in my throat, another moment to control my curiosity, two more moments to clear my throat loud enough to alert them of my presence, and another few moments to timidly break the silence laced with awkward tension that followed.

"Er—splattergoit?"

Silvia nodded and thrust the portrait door forward.

I stepped into the room to find Blaise, Ginny (who had changed out of her Quidditch robes), and Draco smirking at me.

"Did you see that?" I asked them, pointing a thumb to the door behind me.

They nodded and after about a minute of silence we all laughed. I sank into the couch next to Draco and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

"So, how'd it go," Ginny said casually, as if she was asking about the weather.

"Oh, it was great," I replied, nodding. "There was yelling, accusing, denying, and defending. All the things you'd want in an argument, really."

She smiled sympathetically. "Who ended it?"

"I did," I sighed. "By telling them about Draco and me."

Three jaws hit the floor simultaneously.

"You did what?!"

"Minny!"

"Fuckity hell, Granger, were you high?!"

"No, I was not high," I said, rolling my eyes, "just upset. I'm glad they know, so at least I won't have that lie over my head anymore. Don't worry, Draco, if they're going to kill anyone, it's me."

"Oh, I'm not worried for myself," he said. "The worst the Golden Queers could do to me is hit on me. I just don't think that was the right way to go about telling them about us. I never expected you of all people to drop a bomb on someone like that with the _intention_ of hurting them. Honestly, I think it was wrong of you."

Ouch. When Draco Malfoy tells you he thinks something you did was wrong, you _know_ it was ten times _worse_ than wrong.

"Who are you to preach morality to me?" I asked indignantly.

"Granger, I said it was wrong of _you_," he emphasized. "_I_ would have done the same thing and wouldn't have thought twice about it. But if I was _you_, I wouldn't have. It's just not like you, is all."

"Well, then, maybe _you_ are rubbing off on me!"

"Hermione, look, I don't want to argue with you right now," he said calmly. "We've only just gotten through our first argument as a couple; it's too soon to start on the second. I understand that you are stubborn, but you need to hear the truth: telling Potter and Weasley about us like that was unbecoming of you, and you have to take responsibility for your own actions, not blame me for them."

Wow. If only he knew.

He kissed my forehead, stood up, and walked toward the staircase. He took two steps and looked around as if he'd just remembered something.

"Uh, Blaise, I need to talk to you," he said. When Blaise looked at him expectantly he added, "upstairs."

My eyes narrowed as Blaise nodded, kissed Ginny, and followed him.

"Okay," Ginny said once we heard the door to his room shut, "is Pansy a virgin?"

"What?" I asked, bewildered.

"I don't know. I just figured that if everything was backwards it would make the fact that Malfoy _didn't_ want to argue with you a bit more believable."

I smiled at her disbelief. The smile didn't reach my eyes though, because I was still reeling from the words Draco had just said to me.

_You have to take responsibility for your own actions, not blame me for them_.

He's right. And because he is right, and also because this blame game is really eating me up inside, I have finally come to the conclusion that I need to get over this. I suppose it is easier to face the decision that I made now that I like Draco, because I can finally admit the reason why said decision was made:

I didn't want him to die.

Now, don't go thinking this is one of those I-was-secretly-in-love-with-him-all-those-years things, because we all know that I couldn't stand him back then.

No, no. I didn't want him to die because I wanted to give him a second chance. I guess deep down, I thought if I saved him, he would change, and _I_ would get the glory of being the one to change him. When the boy I was _supposed_ to save died, I questioned my decision, and questioned myself. I let an innocent boy die, because I wanted _glory_. What kind of person did that make me?

And then, when that glory didn't even _come_, I _knew_ I'd made the wrong decision. Not that I regret saving Draco's life, I just regret the reason why I chose to do so, and what happened as a result.

I guess it was just easier to blame Draco then to admit to myself that I was a horrible person. I know that making a choice between which life to save first, and only being able to save one in the end, doesn't make me a horrible person. I do know _that_.

However, basing the choice off of self-glorification does. I know that as well.

"Merlin, Hermione," Ginny said suddenly. "I completely forgot that you probably have no _idea_ what's been going on with the rest of the school lately."

"Oh, and I suppose you've been _dying_ to tell me," I laughed.

"Naturally," she smiled. "Anyway, Colin Creevey came out."

"Of?" I asked slowly.

"Of his magic lamp. What do you _think_ he came out of?"

"Oh," I said. "_Oh_. You're kidding."

"Nope," she said.

"Bloody _hell_!"

"I _know_."

"He's gay!"

"I _know_."

"Colin's gay!"

"_Yes_, Mione, he's gay."

"You mean, he's _gay_?"

"Okay, this is getting old," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"Wow. _That_ gives a whole new meaning to his infatuation with Harry, huh?" I asked, still in disbelief.

"Merlin, I know," Ginny laughed. "I'm almost positive it was a little more than admiration he felt for Harry. And do you know who he came out _with_?"

"Who?"

"Macmillan!"

"W-what?" I asked. I shook my head, "He's—he's not… gay."

She cocked her head to the side and spoke slowly, "yes he is."

"N-no, he… he can't—he can't be g-gay."

With her head still tilted, she narrowed her eyes and studied me for a moment. "What year were you in?"

"E-excuse me?"

"What year were you in… when you liked Ernie Macmillan?"

I closed my eyes as I breathed, "third."

Ginny bit down a laugh and remained quiet for a minute.

"I used to have a massive crush on Lance Bass," she shrugged, clearly struggling with her laughter.

"Thanks, Ginny," I said and laughed along when she finally burst.

We stopped laughing when Lord Phillip slipped into his portrait and sat down in his armchair.

"Ladies," he said, tipping his head to us politely.

The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched. She pointed to her lips and said, "Sir, you've got a little, er, lipstick."

* * *

_One month later_

"No."

"Oh, come _on_, just this once?"

"_No._"

"Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"_Why?!_"

"Yes, why? Why are you so against the idea?"

"Because it's… it's just not _right_."

"Who cares if it's _right_, it'll make me happy. Don't you care about making me happy?"

"Of course I care about making you happy."

"Then why _not_?"

"Maybe not everyone in this room is ready for such a display."

"Well, it isn't as if there's much _to_ display."

…

"Ouch! That's abusive."

"Well, you shouldn't say things like that."

"What, you think it's not true?"

"How would I know if it's true or not?"

"_Do_ you know?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh thank Salazar, I don't think I would have been able to handle it."

"You have no idea how dirty that sounds."

"Sick. I really don't appreciate your overactive imagination. I think you owe it to me now to allow me to—"

"Don't even try, because it won't work."

"What won't work?"

"Oh, Blaise, do _you_ think I should charm Potter and Weasley's clothes off?"

"That's brilliant."

"It is _not_ brilliant! Blaise, don't encourage him!"

"Lighten up, Granger. I _know_ you'd love to see the two humiliated in front of the entire Potions class."

"I'll admit, I wouldn't be opposed to it, but I am _very_ opposed to the idea of the two stark naked in front of the entire Potions class. There's just something very, very wrong about it."

"You know, Draco, I agree with Minny. Potter and Weasley wouldn't be the only ones traumatized for life."

"I can't believe my best friend and my girlfriend are _both_ party fowls."

"Oh, you'll get over it. Now, if you had to see Harry and Ron's packages, I'm not sure you'd get over _that_."

"Packages? Please, between the two of them, they couldn't even scrounge up a packing peanut."

"Oh, be quiet."

"Considering the fact that if it was possible for the Golden Queers to shoot fireballs out of their eyes, then I'd be burning to my certain death as we speak, I really think I have the right to insult them."

"Will you just be quiet so I can take notes? After class, you can insult them as much as you'd like."

"Is that a promise?"

"If you shut up, then yes."

"Ha! I love you."

…

* * *

Half an hour later, I was in the bathroom, pacing back and forth, while a very exasperated Ginny stood against the counter tapping her foot impatiently.

"Don't just stand there!" I said, shooting her a glare. "Calm me down! What kind of best friend are you? My boyfriend of merely a month just confessed his love for me, and you're standing there tapping your foot. You're supposed to be telling me what to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Do I break up with him, because I don't feel the same? Say it back even though I don't feel the same? Or do I just wait and hope that I'll feel the same sooner than later? Merlin, why'd he have to say it so soon? And why are you still standing there? Say something!"

"Hermione, I seriously think you're overreacting," she said. "If I had a left nut, I'd bet on it that he didn't mean it."

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

"Tell me how it went again."

"He was insulting Harry and Ron, and I told him to be quiet because we were in class, but after class he could insult them as much as he wanted. He asked if that was a promise, I said yes, and then he said he loves me."

"Hermione, can I copy your homework?"

"That has _absolutely _nothing to do with this!"

"Just answer the question."

"Fine, you can copy my homework."

"Thanks, Mione, I love you!"

"Oh."

"See?"

"Yes, I see." I sighed. "He was just expressing his gratitude."

"Exactly," she said. "So, no big deal."

"No big deal," I agreed.

"Great, let's get lunch, I'm starving."

We left the bathroom and walked down to the Great Hall. It was the last week of term before the Christmas holidays, so the castle was decorated as usual, complete with fresh, snow-covered Christmas trees.

Over the last month, life at Hogwarts had changed dramatically. Ginny quit the Quidditch team because of Harry and Ron, but says she doesn't regret it, because now she has more time to focus on school (and Blaise).

Harry and Ron, other than the constant death glares they send towards me, act like I don't exist. My parents—the Zabini's—owled and said that Mrs. Weasley had changed her plans for Christmas, and I'm betting Ron had some say in that one. Ginny's pretty peeved at him, she was looking forward to spending Christmas with Blaise.

As for my hypocrisy patch, I've pretty much given up on it. I figure hypocrisy is like farting: as much as we'd all love to never fart again, it's natural and impossible to quit. Some people fart really loud and it smells like death, but most of the time you can pass gas without anyone even knowing, sometimes even yourself. Too much of it can cause methane poisoning, which can be fatal, and too much hypocrisy can be fatal for a reputation… like, let's say, the reputation of Gryffindor's Princess. Of course, I'm still going to try _not_ to be hypocritical, just like I try _not_ to fart in class, I'm just going to realize that the occasional, odorless, passing of gas is unavoidable and virtually harmless. Besides, trying not to fart is really uncomfortable.

Draco and I are constantly arguing, but we always work through it pretty well. I have managed to completely remove the blame I once held on him, but I'm having a hard time forgiving myself. Blaise confronted me about it, apparently he'd seen my dream, and told me I should tell Draco, but I'm not sure if I'm ready for that.

Speaking of telling each other things, I found out why Draco had really gone to see Blaise on the day that Ginny fell off her broom, or The Day My Life as a Member of the Golden Trio Officially Ended as I like to call it.

It was a week after, because the whole drama made it completely slip my mind. There had been another attack and we were in the Hospital Wing talking to the victim when I remembered.

"Did you ever get your wallet back?" I had asked with narrowed eyes.

He had looked away and nodded.

"But that wasn't really why you needed to talk to Blaise, was it?" His eyes had flicked back to mine questioningly, and when he realized that I didn't buy his wallet story he sighed and shook his head.

"So are you going to tell me?" I had asked, after he remained silent for a few moments.

He seemed to have really considered not telling me, and I had felt a twinge of annoyance and was about to tell him off, when he sighed again.

"You know the twins, right?" he had asked, taking my hand and leading me to a more secluded area of the room.

I had nodded and raised my eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue.

"Well, when you told me about them, I remembered that when Blaise and Ginny first… you know… he told me that the boy's dormitory was empty, and he said something about Pucey and Nott being out with twins. Well, there aren't _that_ many twins at Hogwarts."

My eyebrows had disappeared underneath my hair. "And?"

"Turns out they're the same ones."

My heart had stopped beating for about two seconds as I tried to process this new information and what it might mean.

"So on the night of the attack…?"

"Well, that was the night _after_ the night they spent with the boys," he had replied. "But I'm betting there's some kind of connection between the two nights."

"Do you think someone found out, and that's why the Slytherins went after _them_?"

"Maybe," he had said, but I could tell from the look on his face that it was something else.

"You don't think _they_ had anything to do with it?" I had asked, scandalized.

He had given me a look, "don't rule it out so quickly, Granger. They're Slytherins, and we are the masters of deceit. You were too quick to trust them. It would have been so easy to lure the girls into a trap once they had seduced them. My theory is that they extended an invitation to them the next night, which gave whatever douches are working with them—or even the two, themselves, if they were stealthy enough—a perfect target: two girls wandering the hallways in the late hours of the night. That would also explain Amanda's attitude towards you. Maybe she had backed out and told her sister not to go either, but she had gone anyway and got herself attacked. Amanda didn't want to tell you where she had _really_ gone, because then they'd be in a heap of trouble, and her sister would earn a bad reputation."

"Well, that all makes perfect sense," I had said, "_except_ the fact that I don't think Adrian and Theodore would _do_ that. They're my friends."

"They're Slytherins," he had rebuked.

"_You're_ Slytherin, does that mean I have to suspect you, too? And what about my brother, _he's_ a Slytherin, so he's a prime suspect as well."

"Don't be smart with me, Granger," he had replied simply. "Just be on your toes around those two. Please?"

"Fine," I had sighed. "But I still think you're being ridiculous."

"As long as you know that it _is_ a possibility," he had said, taking my hands in his.

"A very small possibility," I had replied quietly, and smiled innocently when he clenched his jaw in annoyance.

I've stuck to my word since then, and been more cautious around Adrian and Theodore. Though, I still don't think they could have had any—

Fate is so cruel.

I mean, seriously? Why? Just, why?

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," Pansy bit, after she had picked all her books off the floor and did her normal Bitch routine: scoff, glare, and flip her hair.

"I'm sorry, it's just, you're so pale I thought you were a ghost," I replied.

Ginny snickered in appreciation.

"Well, then maybe you need to get your eyes checked," she sneered, flipping the other side of her hair in an I'm-better-than-you manner.

"Maybe you need to spend more time in the sun instead of in some random boy's room with the lights off because he doesn't want to see your face while he uses you like the whore you are," Ginny retorted, flipping her own hair just to mock her.

Someone call the fire department... wait, no, let her burn.

Pansy lip curled and I could tell this was heading south, so I grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her through the doors to the Great Hall. I could feel the heat radiating from Pansy's angered body and knew that staying any longer would result in the drawing of wands.

"Aw, Mione, I could have kept going," she groaned.

"Yes, but she couldn't—and wouldn't—have," I replied. "I don't need my best friend in a hospital bed."

"Fine," she huffed. "It's just that I've been working on my insults and wanted to test them out on her. She's the _perfect_ test subject."

"I know, Gin, I know," I said, mock sympathetically.

She sighed.

"Well, at least I still have Harry and Ron."

* * *

Blaise:

I've listened to the same thing three times now.

"Damnit, _why_ did I have to say 'I love you'?"

Four.

"This is going to complicate everything," he groaned.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing my face with my hands. This was getting tiresome.

"Did you mean it?" I asked. It was the first thing I've said since we left the classroom. I found it was easier just to let him ramble on about what an idiot he was than to engage in a conversation about it, but now I'm realizing it would probably be best to address it head on.

"What?" he asked, his eyes snapping up to mine. "No! No, of course I didn't mean it. I mean… did I?"

"Did you?"

"No!" he said firmly. "I've never told a girl that I loved her and meant it, why would I start now?"

"Because you've never loved a girl until now?"

"But I don't love her," he said. "Do I?"

"Do you?"

"For fuck's sake, will you _stop_ that?" he sneered.

"Fine, if you didn't mean it, then I'm sure she knows it," I replied, my hands up in a gesture of surrender. "She's a smart girl."

Right on cue, Hermione and Ginny appeared at the table, sitting across from us. Draco looked up and smiled nervously at his girlfriend, who replied with a nervous smile of her own. Seriously, who the fuck were they and what did they do with Draco and Hermione?

'_Minny, you don't think Draco meant it when he said he loves you, do you?_' I asked.

'_Honestly, at first I did,_'she replied. '_But Ginny helped me realized that it was probably a fluke._'

'_Well, Ginny's right_,' I told her, but then I realized I had made a mistake. '_I hope that doesn't upset you_.'

'_Oh Merlin, no_,' she said. '_When I did think it was true, I flipped out, because it's too soon for that_.'

'_Good_.'

"Draco, you can stop worrying she doesn't think you meant it," I said out loud.

Hermione looked shocked, and Draco looked at me, then to Hermione, and back to me.

"Blaise!" Minny said. "Why would you tell him that?"

"I apologize, Hermione," I told her, "but my friend was flipping out, as well, and I had to get him to stop somehow, or he'd drive me insane."

She still didn't look happy with me, but at least she didn't protest.

Draco realized what was going on and he paled. "Thanks, mate," he said sarcastically.

I shrugged and smiled at Ginny, who was smirking at me.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I replied, and leaned across the table to kiss her.

She laughed and turned to the other two. "See guys, it's not _that_ bad."

* * *

**Okay, now... review.**

**Chya.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This is definitely my shortest chapter yet... but there is a lot going on and I didn't want to keep you waiting much longer. And a warning: there's pretty heavy bad language towards the end, but it all adds to the drama that I hope entertains you. If not, then I apologize.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, you guys keep me going. :)**

Hermione:

Twice in twenty-four hours has to be some sort of record. Fate can't be _that_ cruel. Can it?

My eyes jump to the girl with whom I have just unceremoniously collided, meeting the deep blue eyes of… well, I suppose it's better than Pansy.

"Oh! Hermione, I'm so sorry," Christine said, bending over to retrieve the book she dropped.

"Oh, no, it's no bother," I replied, picking up the four of my own. "It's as much my fault as it is yours."

"No, no, if I wasn't so busy chatting with Amanda, here, I would have been quicker to notice you," she insisted, the same wide smile invading the whole bottom half of her face. The little girl in me rejoiced in the victory of finally having met the legendary Cheshire Cat.

"Yes, but I could have been paying more attention to my path, as well," I said. Of course, I then realized that it was incredibly petty of me to feel the need to carry the blame on my own shoulders. People tend to want to feel superior in everything they do, even, as pathetic as it sounds, when it comes being worse than the worst. "You know, what, it doesn't matter where the blame lies. No harm done, right?"

Another smile. "Right. Anyway, Hermione, you never did properly meet my sister, Amanda."

Amanda offered a smaller, more proportionate smile that hid a sense of foreboding. She was obviously aware of what her sister had told me.

"Nice to meet you," I said kindly, trying to convey to her the fact that I wasn't about to bust her. "I hope you have recovered well enough."

She sent a weary sort of glance to her sister. "Yes, thank you. Though, I do wish I could remember what happened."

"Yes, that's very unfortunate," I replied, smiling sympathetically. "If you ever do have any sort of recollection, however, I ask that you do not hesitate in telling me."

After another glance at her sister, she assured me that she would not. Christine uttered a hurried goodbye and took her sister by the arm to lead her away.

I am not sure why, but I'm not terribly fond of Christine.

Oh, come on, like _you_ haven't said that same line with a different name attached to it many a time before? There are people like her everywhere; something about her just doesn't settle right with me, and I can't put my finger on _what_.

* * *

It had become routine for me to visit the infirmary after classes, just to see if Madame Pomfrey had any updates. As I walked in, I was glad to see that there were no new patients.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I'm glad you came in today," Madame Pomfrey said, looking up from a boy covered in boils.

She stood up and grasped the sleeve of my robe, pulling me toward her office, where she disappeared for a moment before emerging with a piece of parchment in her hands. She held the parchment out to me with a frown.

"I have listed the symptoms of all of the victims so far, along with materials that I have found traces of in their systems," she said. "While I am not practiced in the art of potion-making, I am almost certain that there were potions involved in this. I'm sure that with careful inspection of this list, you and Mr. Malfoy can manage to discover exactly which potions we are dealing with."

I nodded and expressed my thanks before leaving the Wing to meet the aforementioned young man for dinner.

When I arrived at the Slytherin table I was surprised to see a petite blonde hanging on his arm. He looked up at me with an expression that clearly conveyed his annoyance and the jealousy that had begun to spread through my veins at the sight of her immediately vanished. I sat down next to Ginny, and she smirked, as if knowing what was coming.

"Oh, hello," she said in a voice dripping with insincerity. "You must be Hermione. I've heard so much about you. Well, of course, everyone knows who you are; you're practically famous. Though, you probably owe that to Harry Potter. I'd love to be that well-known, only I wouldn't be able to stand that many bad rumors going around about me. Does it bother you at all? I'm sure it does; it would _definitely_ bother me."

Oh, dear Merlin, save me.

I smiled politely, choosing to ignore everything she said after "Hermione."

"Yes, I am Hermione," I said. "And you are?"

"Oh, do forgive me," she said. Not likely. "My name's Vivian. Vivian Morbrook. I'm a sixth-year Slytherin. My close friends call me Viv."

Good thing I'm not her close friend.

"It's nice to meet you, Vivian."

"Where were you, Mione?" Ginny asked me.

"I dropped by the Hospital Wing," I said, "which reminds me, Malfoy, that Madame Pomfrey gave me a list of substances she found in the victims' bodies. If we go over them, we should be able to come up with possible potions that the attackers used."

Draco opened his mouth to reply but was cut off.

"Yes, I heard about those attacks," Vivian said. "It's such a pity, really. I could help, if you want. I got an "A" on my Potions O.W.L last year, and Professor Snape told me that if I continue to excel in Potions, I could easily run the entire Potions Department at the Ministry by the time I turn twenty."

I inhaled deeply, while Blaise chortled into his dinner and Draco stared at her with a face completely blank save for the slight raise of his right eyebrow.

"It appears our dear Professor Snape has been practicing his ability to disguise his sarcasm as Trelawny-worthy predictions and is currently using them on his more obtuse students," Ginny said.

"Are you calling me fat?" Vivian asked indignantly.

"No, no," I said, attempting to give _some_ sort of intelligence to the girl. "You're thinking of 'obese'. Ginny is merely suggesting that perhaps Professor Snape was only being sarcastic."

"No, I don't think he was," she said, frowning. "See, he called me exceptionally inept at Potions."

The others snickered, and I had to press my lips together so as not to do the same.

"Do you know what 'inept' means?" I asked.

"Yes, it means 'skilled.'"

I shook my head pityingly. "No, Vivian, that's '_ad_ept.'"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you know anyway? That is _so_ like you seventh years: you all think you're so much smarter than the rest of us."

"Oh, I know," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Who gave _her_ the right to talk so condescendingly? It's not as if she's at the top of her class and wears some sort of badge indicating her superiority over the rest of the student population or anything silly like that."

The blonde looked affronted, so I decided that a change of subject was necessary.

"As I was saying, Malfoy, we need to arrange a time to work on those potions."

"Yes, we should do it before the Holidays," he replied in the bored drawl he always uses to show his disinterest towards me… or, rather, fake it. "Does tomorrow evening work for you?"

"But, Draco," Vivian protested, "I wanted to… you know… tomorrow evening."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yes, but I never agreed to 'you know,'" he replied. "And—oh, what a pity—something's come up."

"Well, I suppose we could do it another time," she sighed.

"I'm terribly busy the rest of the week, and then, I'm afraid, we break for the holidays."

"I could always visit the Manor," she persisted.

"You could, but I wouldn't be there," he replied through gritted teeth. My heart started beating faster with the hope that this proclamation wasn't a lie. Could he be spending the holidays with us?

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

Just then a brunette sat down beside her, picking up Vivian's bag and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground.

"Honestly, Julie, you _could_ be a bit gentler with Frank," she snapped at her friend.

"Frank?" Ginny mouthed. "Who in the bloody hell is Frank?" she asked out loud.

"Oh, he's my bag," Vivian replied cheerfully.

"You named your bag?"

She smiled. "Isn't it cute?'

She turned and started talking a mile a minute to her friend, completely oblivious to the milk that was sprayed from Blaise's mouth at this sentiment.

Ginny patted his back soothingly while failing to hold in her own laughter.

I sighed, fearing for humanity, and finished my dinner.

* * *

Later that night, while studying in the confines of my boyfriend-free room, I was overcome by a fit of five consecutive sneezes, followed immediately by the never-ending flow of mucous that is always an indication of the impending monster commonly known as a cold.

So it was with a trash bin half-full of my discarded tissues at my side, an empty tissue box in my lap, and the last remaining tissue in my hand, about to serve its purpose, that Draco found me.

"Are you sick?" he inquired.

"No, I just really like the smell of tissues."

I blew my nose into the tissue, threw it in the bin, and held up the empty box.

"Got any tissues?" I asked him.

He nodded and disappeared through the bathroom door. When he reappeared, he had with him a box of tissues, an extra pillow, and a bottle of a midnight blue, twinkling liquid.

"Here are your tissues, milady," he said, placing them on my bedside table. He closed my Arithmancy book and put it back in my bag, which he then placed at the foot of my bed. He slipped the extra pillow underneath my own and fluffed them a bit. "What you need is some sleep. Here," he held up the liquid, "this is the cold medicine my mother gives me; it fights the cold and works as a pretty heavy tranquilizer. I don't remember ever suffering through a cold, and that's all thanks to this stuff."

"But will I be able to wake up in the morning?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes, of course," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry; you won't have to miss class."

He held the potion closer to me, so I took it reluctantly.

"Just one sip."

I nodded and took a sip. Surprisingly, it tasted as if every delicious food known to man had congregated into one liquefied slice of heavenly pie.

Sighing, I gave the bottle back to Draco. He kissed my forehead and pushed my shoulders down so that I was laying on my back.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll check on you in the morning."

I nodded and closed my eyes, already feeling the effects of the potion. Draco pulled the covers over me and kissed me again.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

* * *

My eyes blinked open, my mind slowly returning to the conscious world. The smell of jasmine filled my nostrils as I inhaled deeply. I turned my head to the side and smiled at my boyfriend, who was sitting in a chair by my bed, a cup of tea in his hand and another one on my table.

"Morning," he smiled.

"You were watching me sleep?" I asked groggily.

He shrugged. "Since you got sick, I wasn't able to wake up with you in my arms, so I figured I could at_ least_ watch you wake up. Otherwise, my day just wouldn't be as bright."

A butterfly flittered happily in my stomach and I smiled.

"Draco?!" I called out. "Draco, where are you?!"

When I looked back at him he was confused. "Oh, hello, have you seen my boyfriend anywhere? It seems he's run off and left someone terribly and romantically sweet in his absence."

His confusion turned to a frown. "No need to worry, he's back. I brought you tea, it should help."

He stood up and left the room.

Merlin, help me, my boyfriend has no humor.

I groaned and pulled myself out of bed, ignoring the dizziness that accompanied my abrupt switch to verticality.

Draco was laying on his back in his bed, tossing a pair of socks in the air and catching them. I knocked on the door frame and he looked over at me.

"I'm sorry for offending you," I said. "I loved what you said, really, I did. It just wasn't like you is all."

"It wasn't like you to go off on your friends like that," he snapped. "So I guess we're both changing."

Low blow, Draco. Low blow.

"What in the bloody hell has your knickers in a twist?" I asked incredulously.

"As if you care," he sneered. "It's not worth it. Drink your tea."

He grabbed his book bag and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him as he went. I stood, gaping, at the door for a good five minutes before gathering my wits and returning to my own room.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, he was gone by the time I made it down to breakfast.

"You and Draco have a row?" Ginny whispered as I sat by her side.

Blaise looked up and leaned in closer so that he could hear.

I nodded and told them what happened.

"That's weird," Ginny said. I nodded my agreement.

Blaise, however, said nothing.

* * *

Blaise:

I studied my best friend's face as he mulled over my question. He would open his mouth to scoff or protest, but I would narrow my eyes at him and he'd fall silent again. This repeated about five times before, finally, he sighed in resignation.

"I suppose so," he said.

I nodded. "Thought so."

He sighed again.

I smirked. "Scares the shit out of you, eh?"

He glared at me, but I merely shrugged, sitting back in my chair and folding my arms across my chest. He ran his hands through his hair and looked toward the front of the room, where Professor Binns was droning on about some war amongst the trolls too many years back to care about.

When the bell rang we hastened to leave the classroom, but then slowed once we reached the corridor.

We walked in silence most of the way down to the greenhouses. However, as we turned a corner we saw Potter and Weasley sauntering toward us.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered.

The Wonder Queers glared at us icily. As we tried to pass, Weasley stepped in my way and puffed out his chest.

"If you hurt my sister," he said dangerously, "I _will_ castrate you."

"Wow, Weasley, I didn't know you had such an extensive vocabulary," Draco drawled. I sent him a warning look; by now, the students had noticed what was going on and stopped to watch.

Without moving or removing his eyes from mine, Weasley growled, "shut up, Malfoy."

"I think it's time for someone's nappie-poo," Draco sneered.

"I mean it, Malfoy, shut the fuck up or I'll make you."

"Not until you leave my friend alone," he spat.

Weasley finally snapped his head to Draco.

"I could say the same to you," he retorted.

"Watch your words, Weasley," Draco warned. "Don't say anything stupid."

"Don't fucking talk to me like that," he said. "I can say as a please."

"If you know what's good for you and your friend, you'd shut the fuck up," Draco said in a low voice. He was talking about Hermione, but Weasley thought he meant Potter.

"Harry hasn't done a fucking thing, so leave him out of it," he snapped. "If you so much as _look_ at Hermione wrong—"

"You bloody imbecile, I _said_ to shut the _fuck_ up!" Draco shouted, drawing his wand and aiming it straight at Weasley's chest.

"What?" Weasley laughed harshly. "Are you _ashamed_?"

"This has _nothing_ to do with _shame_, you fucktard," he spat in a voice hardly above a whisper, so that nobody could hear. "If I could, I would announce it to the entire school without hesitation. Are you that daft? Do you _know_ what could bloody _happen_ if the entire school _knew_? Have you not _heard_ of the attacks? Are you that stupid that you don't realize what my ignorant, moronic housemates would _do_ to her if you were to _tell_ them about us?" Comprehension dawned on the redhead's freckled face. "So, for once, use the delicate amount of fucking brains in that stupid, fat head of yours and _shut_ the _fuck_ up before I hex your microscopic balls off."

Weasley huffed, but kept his mouth shut, brushing past me to continue down the corridor. Potter sent Draco an odd sort of half-angry, half-appreciative look, unsure of what to do.

Ever the valiant one, he resigned to muttering a quiet, "thanks," without looking at him and hurrying off after Weasley.

"Why are you all still standing here?" Draco yelled at the students around us. "Get to class or I'll give you a month's worth of detention."

They all scrambled and Draco pocketed his wand.

"Well, don't you two seem to be getting along well?" I laughed.

He glared at me.

"Please don't insult my intelligence."

* * *

**A little note: Vivian, while under a different name, is a real person. Obviously, the girl I know didn't say any of the things Vivian did, but she really is as big an airhead as Vivian is, and she did, in fact, name her school bag Frank. I have to listen to her talk nonsense for an hour every day, and everytime she opens her mouth it makes me fear for humanity even more.**

**Anyway... review.**

**I promise the next chapter will have even more drama. :)**


	17. Author's Note

**Author's Note: Well, I have good news and bad news? Which do you want first?**

**Ha, as if you have a say.. you get the bad news first.**

**This weekend, due to techonological retardation (whether on my part or on the part of the world in general... i say the latter, but who knows), my computer crashed. I lost everything. What's worse, is I was unable to save the poor, stupid, frustratingly modern tool for world domination (because that's what computers are, really). So basically, I won't have a computer for God only knows how long, until I can get mine fixed or get a new one. In conclusion, don't hold your breath in waiting for an update. That's suicide.**

**The good news, you ask? I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geiko!**

**Ya, not even. Sorry for that. If it's any consolation, I'm probably more depressed about the situation than you are. :**


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'm back!! That took forever, I know. But you all know the complexities of computers, so it's not entirely my fault.**

**First off, I feel compelled to advise any of you who have yet to do so to see Batman as soon as humanly possible. Heath Ledger was phenomenal and the movie itself was amazing. That is all.**

**One of my reviewers under the pen name of Loveeee suggested that at the beginning of each chapter I post recaps from the chapter before. I think it was an excellent suggestion, as even when my computer is functioning properly, I have a poor habit of procrastination, which can result in chasm-like gaps between posts and you may have forgotten what was going on.**

**So with that said:**

**_Previously, on Pure Gold: Hermione runs into Christine and her sister Amanda, and realizes she is weary of the girl. She then visits the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfrey gives her a list of materials that were found in the victim's bodies and requests that she and Draco try to find the significance of them. She then meets Vivian Morbrook, a vapid airhead who named her schoolbag, Frank, and is deliriously under the impression that Draco wants her. That night she gets sick with a cold, and Draco shows his caring side and helps her feel better. Unfortunately, when he says something uncharacteristically romantic, Hermione makes a typical sarcastic remark about the whereabouts of her _real_ boyfriend, since he would never say something like that, and he takes it a little too personally. When she tells her brother and best friend about his reaction, Blaise becomes suspicious and approaches Draco. He asks him something and Draco gives him a positive answer (the question was a mystery... anyone solve it? If not, no worries, you'll know soon enough). The two run into Harry and Ron, and the latter accosts Blaise. Draco comes to his defense, which results in Ron almost spilling Draco and Hermione's secret. Draco warns him to hold his tongue, at the same time showing the two that he really does care for their friend. Harry shows a rare ounce of respect to Draco, but Draco is left with a bitter taste in his mouth._**

**Ready?**

**And here we go!**

* * *

Hermione:

'Twas the ultimate oxymoron: the silence was deafening.

Every miniscule sound—the slight scraping of the sharp end of the knife against the wooden table, the _splash_ as the chopped roots fell into the simmering potion, the rustling of robes as we moved our arms about—was amplified tenfold.

The only words spoken were polite requests to pass a certain ingredient or a small apology as hands accidentally brushed against each other.

It wasn't due to my lack of trying.

No, no. It was his. He wouldn't even look me in the eye, and when he did, all I saw was bitterness.

Oh, Merlin, I was confused.

"Granger, I think we're done here," Draco said. Ha, so he talks.

"I agree," I replied. "I'll just get these results to Madame Pomfrey. I must say, I'm rather surprised at what we found."

Draco merely shrugged.

We cleaned everything up and shouldered our bags. He let me lead the way out of the Potions room, following a few steps behind me.

When we reached the corridor where we'd have to split ways, I glanced at him awkwardly.

"I'll, er, see you in the common room?"

He nodded. I leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. When I pulled away his eyes were closed and he looked as if he was in a battle with himself. After a moment, I stepped back and walked away.

I tried to put on a brave front for Madame Pomfrey's sake, but the entire time that we were going over the results, all I wanted to do was cry. I didn't know what was happening with Draco, but I didn't like it.

On the way back to the common room, I saw Harry, Ron, Parvati, and Lavender heading to the Gryffindor tower. I shrunk into a shadowy corner, hoping not to let them see me. Though, I might as well have hid behind my wand for all the good it did me.

Ron looked straight at me as they passed, and gave me the "sigh and head shake."

It felt as though he had hit me in the stomach with a ten-pound brick. Ronald Weasley was disappointed in me, Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley is _never_ disappointed in Hermione Granger… it's always the other way around.

_True,_ my conscience whispered, _but Ron Weasley _isn't_ disappointed in Hermione Granger… he's disappointed in Hermione _Zabini.

I watched them disappear down the hall toward their tower… no, _my_ tower… while the same question replayed over and over again in my mind: Who am I?

I _used_ to be the Gryffindor Queen, I _used_ to be Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's best friend… I _used _to be a Muggle-born who exceeded expectations set by bigot-driven Purebloods.

Now? Now, I hardly identify myself as a Gryffindor, and spend more time with Slytherins than I do my own House. Now, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley don't speak to me, and I associate myself with their enemies. Now, I _am_ a Pureblood.

The sense of loss was staggering and I had to take a moment to control my breathing. No, no, it wasn't the loss of my House, my friends, or my blood status that affected me so… it was the loss of my_self_.

"Hermione?"

I looked around to find an innocent and bright face framed by blonde waves, a kind face I hadn't seen for too long.

"Hello, Luna," I smiled. For all her quirkiness, I've learned that Luna has an aptitude for making the world seem less heavy.

"It's good to see you," she said, in her all-too-familiar dreamy voice. "I feel like I haven't seen you since Wobbleworm season; they only come out when the star, Sadalbari, sneezes, and she hasn't sneezed in five-hundred years."

It was then that I realized how much I've missed Luna's loony-ness.

"I think that is a slight exaggeration," I laughed.

She smiled. "I suppose so, but still." Her expression became sympathetic. "I heard about your falling out with Harry and Ron."

Biting my lip to keep from tearing up, "Oh, it's nothing too big, I wouldn't worry about it."

She nodded. Then her head tilted as she gazed at the necklace I wore around my neck. It was a simple gold chain with a golden H that Blaise had given me for my birthday.

"That is a very pretty necklace," Luna said. "Though, I don't like gold much; it's too gaudy for me. Gold is beautiful and elegant, but sometimes people wear so much that they lose themselves in it." She shrugged. "It was good seeing you, Hermione."

She smiled and skipped off.

I watched her go, smiling at the notion that the weirdest person can say the truest of things.

* * *

When I returned to my common room I was unsurprised and a little hurt to find that Draco had not been waiting for me.

Ignoring the whirlwind of emotions in my heart, I climbed the stairs and entered my dormitory, almost immediately collapsing on the bed.

It was too much for me to handle, and all I could think about was how I missed my two best friends. Harry and Ron would always make me feel better, even if they didn't know why I needed cheering up. I was never really open with my emotions when it came to expressing the reasons for them, but they could read me like a book, and knew when I was upset.

Harry would immediately sense my discontent and alert Ron, who would immediately pick up the scent, and within the minute they'd be asking me who was in need of a good hexing.

Yes, they were like my guard dogs… with wands.

Not that I need guard dogs, for all you die-hard feminists out there. We all know I could hex the shite out of anyone who tried to face me.

Still, it is nice to have people care enough about you that they _want_ to protect you. Hence, my guard dogs with wands.

I almost smiled at the mental image, but remembered that my Rottweizards (hehe) were currently not speaking to me, causing tears to prick my eyes. Before I knew it, I was sobbing.

Damn PMS.

"You miss them," Draco said from the doorway.

I immediately sobered and sat up, wiping the tears from my cheek.

"Thanks, Detective, but Helen Keller could have spotted that one."

He ignored my comment—probably because he doesn't know who Helen Keller is—and continued, leaning against the door frame.

"Go to them and apologize," he said.

I started to protest but he cut me off.

"Swallow your pride, Granger."

Defeated, I looked down at my hands. "They'll never forgive me."

"Tell them we've broken up," he shrugged.

My eyes immediately shot up to look at his.

"And have we?"

"I think it's best."

My anger flared. "For whom?"

"You."

"Bullshit," I spat. "There's something else, isn't there? Something you're not telling me?"

"Just because you keep things from me, doesn't mean the secrecy is reciprocated."

Oops… I farted and it smells like hypocrisy. Which, consequentially, smells like it feels: like shite. Which, once again consequentially, is what farting really smells like. So it all works out, really.

But I digress.

"You're a coward, Malfoy."

Silence. "I'm not the one crying on my bed, too afraid to apologize to my best friends."

He left and the tears fell faster.

I allowed myself a few minutes to pull myself together, then resigned to taking my now-ex-boyfriend's advice and swallowed my pride.

* * *

Tiptoeing so as not to wake the monster, aka Lord Phillip, I snuck out the portrait door.

"Where are you headed?" Silvia asked.

"I'll be back in a bit."

"Nice try, doll, get back in bed."

"Lord Phillip says hello, by the way," I said, sending her a meaningful look.

Her cheeks reddened. "Don't be long."

I nodded and walked on.

After a few minutes, I reached the Fat Lady's portrait and whispered the password. She let me in only after I showed her my Head Girl badge, angrily mumbling about being woken up in the middle of the night.

The Common Room was empty save for a third year asleep by the fire with a book in her lap. I smiled despite my emotional state; the girl reminded me of myself. I shook her shoulder to wake her.

She stirred and her eyes blinked open. "What time is it?"

"Late," I replied. "You should go upstairs. Is that due tomorrow?"

"No, not until Friday," she replied. "I just wanted to get it done ahead of time."

I smiled at her. "Do me a favor?"

She nodded.

"When you become Head Girl, tell Lord Phillip that Hermione says hello."

She cocked her head confusedly.

"Nevermind. Go to sleep."

Wearily, she packed her things and left the room. I followed her, but instead of taking the stair that led to the girl's dormitories, I took the one to the boys.

I reached the landing for the seventh-years and fumbled for my wand. I was going to light it, but decided that I didn't want to wake anyone up, so I put it back in my pocket.

I opened the door as quietly as I could, and shut it softly behind me. I walked by the first bed quicker than I meant to, and misjudged the distance between myself and the trunk at the end of it, resulting in a stabbing pain in my toe. I let out a string of whispered curse words, hopping on one foot, before I tripped over a broomstick. To prevent myself from falling face-first, I grabbed on to the nearest thing, which happened to be the curtain of the four-poster bed. The curtain ripped and I heard an ear-splitting scream as Neville jumped up in his bed, aiming a pencil, which he had obviously mistook for his wand in the confusion, at my head. Dean sat up in his own bed, shirtless, with a mumbled, "wuzzgoinon?" The other three had woken up as well and were staring at me open-mouthed as I stood in the middle of the room, holding Neville's ripped curtain in my hands.

So much for being quiet.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"What are you doing here?" Ron questioned.

"I decided that I needed new curtains, and I've always admired Neville's, so I decided to swing by in the middle of the night to retrieve them," I replied. "What do you think I'm doing here? I came to apologize."

"In the middle of the night?" Harry asked with disbelief in his eyes.

"Well, it has been my experience that everything exciting happens in the middle of the night," I replied. "Who was I to mess with tradition?"

"And the curtain?" Neville asked shakily, cheeks reddening as he returned the pencil to his bedside table.

"For all her brilliance, she's not very talented in the art of maintaining her equilibrium," Harry answered for me, a slight smile gracing his lips. "Hermione, would you like to move this to the common room for a bit of privacy?"

I glanced at the other three boys, all staring at me as if I had escaped from the insane asylum, and nodded gratefully. Ron and Harry both stepped out of their beds and followed me out the door.

We sat in our favorite seats by the fireplace and stared at the empty hearth for a long while. Finally, I looked over at them and drew in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I said.

They both looked up at me. Harry nodded, the same small smile still present, and Ron sighed wearily.

He opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off.

"I'm no longer with Draco."

His mouth closed again and he studied my face.

"Do you think that is supposed to make me happy?" he asked.

"Does it?" I asked in way of replying.

"Are you happy?"

I opened my mouth to say yes, but realized that if I was going to make this work, honesty was the best policy.

"No," I whispered.

"Then it doesn't make me happy," Ron said. "Look, Mione, for once in your life you have this all wrong. We were upset with you before you told us about Malfoy, so what makes you think that this is about him?"

"I know it's not, but I thought it would help," I replied.

"Above all else, Hermione," Harry cut in, "we want you to be happy. How could something that obviously doesn't make you happy, help us?"

"You both hate him," I replied. "I thought you hated me dating him?"

"You never gave us the chance to tell you what we thought about it, Mione," Ron reminded me. "Truth be told, I _did_ hate it, but I recently realized how much he cares for you and have changed my mind. Now I'm only uncomfortable with it."

"But yet you've still ignored me?" I asked, confused.

"Because this isn't about Malfoy!" he said, irritated.

"Hermione, this is about you changing and abandoning us," Harry said calmly.

"I know," I said, a sob escaping my throat. "But I haven't abandoned you." They both started protesting. "No. I haven't abandoned _you_, I've abandoned Hermione Granger."

They both stared, not knowing what to say.

"But Hermione Granger is a fighter, and you both _know_ that," I said. "All this time, in my head, I've thought of Hermione Granger and Hermione Zabini as two different people, and have acted according to which ever one was currently in control. As time went by, Hermione Zabini gained more and more control, and Hermione Granger less, until eventually she only made brief appearances. When you guys stopped talking to me, Hermione Granger started fighting back. She won, hence my presence here tonight. The thing is, though, that now that Hermione Zabini has introduced herself in my life, she will always be a part of it. I just have to find a way to combine Hermione Granger and Hermione Zabini, and to convince myself, and everyone else, that they are the same person… that they are both _me_. In order to do that, I'll need your help."

"And we will help you," said Ron. "We're glad to have our best friend back."

"She's glad to be back."

We all grinned, and four a moment I felt as if nothing had changed, and we were sitting by the fire after a night of merriment and homework.

"So what's the latest news on the anti-Zabini-Granger movement?" Harry asked.

Way to shatter my moment, Harry.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey gave Draco and me a list of materials that were found in the victims' bodies, and we assessed them," I told them. "The only potion we came up with was the Sleeping Draught, which suggests that whoever is attacking these people mean no harm to them. We think that the person responsible for this is solely concerned with sending me a message."

"And what's that message?" Ron asked.

"They don't want me to be a Pureblood," I replied. "However, since I can't exactly help that, nor would I ever willingly do so, there's not much I can do."

"Except go back to the days of old, when you were solely a Gryffindor and hated the Slytherins," Ron joked, though it didn't look as if he was completely joking.

I laughed. "You know I can't do that."

"So who do you think it is?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Easy," Ron said. "It's that Pale-arse kid."

"Paleman, you mean? No, I'm starting to believe it isn't him," I said. "In fact, I'm starting to wonder if it is even a Slytherin at all."

"But why would someone who isn't in Slytherin care if you're a Pureblood?"

"I don't know. But I do know that most Slytherins wouldn't just slip a Muggle-born the Sleeping Draught if they had a chance to poison them."

* * *

"Morning, Gryffie," Theodore said, taking a seat beside me.

I looked up and smiled sleepily.

"Why are you so tired?" Adrian asked. "Did my mate keep you up late last night?" He winked.

I sighed, glancing over at Draco, who was sitting next to Crabbe and Goyle this morning, and shook my head.

The flutter of wings announced the arrival of owls, and students began moving their plates to allow space for letters to land.

I had only just put money into the Prophet owl's pouch and sent it on its way when an enraged gasp sounded down the table.

Heads all throughout the Hall turned.

I tried to see over Theodore's head, but it was impossible, so I merely returned to my breakfast and decided to rely on his account.

Turns out there would be no need for relying on someone else's account.

There was a tap on my shoulder, and too late, I realized that everyone was now looking at me and whoever was standing behind me.

I sighed and turned.

Drum roll, please…

"Yes, Pansy?"

Pansy stood fuming, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, and her fist gripping a small piece of parchment.

"Is it true?" she asked in a voice of controlled calm.

"That you are a whore?" Ginny asked. "Of course, it's true."

"Shut up, Weasley," she spat. "Granger, is it bloody _true_?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," I replied.

She slammed the parchment down on the table and pointed one short, pudgy finger to it.

I looked down at the words written and my heart sank._,_

_Draco has a new pet. Sorry, Kitty, but you've been replaced by a Lion, a Lion who wears the face of a Serpent._

I pocketed the parchment so that nobody would be able to read what it said.

After taking a deep breath to try to calm myself (unsuccessfully, of course), I looked at Draco, trying to convey the words without speaking them. The look of horror on his face told me that he had understood. Then I sent a quick message to Blaise, who's eyes widened before leaning to whisper it to his girlfriend.

"Pansy, can we take this somewhere less… public?" I asked quietly.

"Personally, I think this is as good a place as anywhere," Pansy replied snippily. "Besides, you don't get to make requests."

I stood up with every intention of leaving, hoping to draw her out of the Great Hall, but she grabbed my arm and whispered menacingly in my ear.

"You walking out of here won't prevent me from announcing it to the whole school, Granger," she said.

I cursed silently, my palms starting to sweat and my heart rate increasing. If Pansy told everyone about Draco and me, the Slytherins—and possibly other houses as well—would hate us for it, and would be looking for blood.

"Pansy, don't… please," I whispered.

"So it's true?" she asked.

There was nothing for it; I would have to tell her the truth. I nodded, and her face went redder.

Suddenly, I felt something poke into my side and looked down to see Pansy's wand.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hex the shit out of you."

I sighed. When will people ever learn?

Ever my loyal best friend, Ginny had reached for my bag under the table with her leg once she realized what was going on, had retracted my wand, and was currently pressing it into the hand that I strategically placed behind my back.

"How about I give you three?" I asked. "First of all, it is extremely rude to pull a wand on an unarmed student in a Hall full of other students and teachers, not to mention stupid." Much like that night months ago on the balcony by my door with Draco, I held up my pointer finger. "Secondly, I'm Head Girl, and being threatened by someone with less than a quarter of my own mental capacity does nothing if not amuse me." I held up my middle finger. "And lastly, _Expelliarmus!_" As her wand flew away from her and shock registered across her face, I held up a third finger and wiggled them in emphasis. "Now if and when you're ready to discuss this maturely and in private, come see me and we'll talk. I can guarantee you that there are at least six people in this room whose positions in this school wouldn't be compromised by hexing you until your face fell off, and would be willing to do so if any word was spoken about what was written on that note, so I would advise you not to speak of it. In fact, you're lucky I'm Head Girl, or I would have done it myself. I don't take kindly to threats, Parkinson, and you'll do well to remember that."

"You think you can keep me from telling people?" She laughed. "There's nothing you can do to stop me."

Draco stood up. "Actually, Pansy, you're forgetting something. You might want to be weary of what you tell people, because you wouldn't want somebody else sharing _your_ biggest secret, would you?"

Her face paled, and my curiosity was piqued.

"Fine," she breathed, and turned on her heels to walk away, stopping to pick up her wand.

I breathed a sigh of relief and sank back into my seat, cradling my head in my hands. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite over.

"What was that all about?" Paleman asked me.

"None of your business, that's what."

But other people started speaking out in earnest as well. Pansy had raised suspicion and I felt it was only a matter of time before someone decides to play detective and learns our secret.

* * *

Blaise:

"Hermione, calm down," I said soothingly. "Pansy hasn't told anyone yet."

"That doesn't matter, Blaise!" she snapped.

She was pacing in the middle of her common room while Ginny, Weasley, Potter, and I looked on. Draco had disappeared after breakfast, and I was curious as to why he wasn't here trying to console his girlfriend, not to mention a little peeved at him for it.

"The entire Great Hall heard our argument," Minny said. "True, they didn't know what it was about but I'm sure at _least_ one of them was curious enough to want to try to find out. Once he or she _does_ find out, who's going to stop _them_ from spreading it to any ear that'll hear it? And once word reaches the Slytherins, I'm as good as dead and Draco will be shunned, ridiculed, and possibly worse. Oh, and that's not even mentioning that an outsider _already_ knows, because nobody here would send an owl to Pansy about Draco and I!"

"What about—" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off angrily.

"Don't you _dare_, Ronald Weasley," she warned.

"But—"

"_No!_ I won't hear it."

"You're too quick to trust, Mione."

She glared at him, but said nothing.

"Where's Draco?" Ginny asked. "He should be here."

Potter and Weasley exchanged glances and Minny's eyes locked with mine. The pain I saw in her blue irises and the way her two friends' gazes focused on their shoes, made the words that she whispered unnecessary.

"He broke up with me last night."

Ginny gasped.

Watching my sister sink into an armchair with her eyes closed and drape a hand over her eyes wearily, was like watching a sappy romance movie in which the main character gets her heart broken. I felt helplessness at first, but it slowly turned into an intense anger and determination.

"I have to go," I announced.

"Blaise!" Minny said, jumping up. '_Don't do anything stupid_.'

I shook my head reassuringly and practically threw myself out the door.

She didn't specify what "stupid" was. To me, hexing my best mate's balls off for breaking my sister's heart didn't sound stupid, but she may have other ideas.

I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and say that hexing Draco would be an ingenious idea and Hermione would find it very commendable.

First, there was the simple matter of _finding_ him.

"You!" I said with a nod, putting up my best air of seniority as a fourth year Slytherin walked by. The boy pulled back and looked at me expectantly. "Have you seen the Head Boy?"

"He was headed to the Common Room with those two fat idiots," he said.

"Crabbe and Goyle," I corrected him, though the use of "those two fat idiots" to identify them was common, so I could hardly blame him for saying it. "Now get back to class so you don't end up as a fat idiot, yourself."

"I'd sooner become a ballet dancer, Zabini," he said with a wink.

_I like this kid_, I decided.

I smirked. "What's your name?"

"Timothy Paleman."

"Paleman? As in Richard Paleman's kid brother?"

"I prefer to be known as Richard Paleman's smarter, more rational, and more mature brother despite the fact that he's older, but yes, Richard's my brother," he said, his eyes smiling at his own joke that he's obviously delivered on multiple occasions.

I chuckled and shook my head, before patting his back in a brotherly manner and walking away.

"Zabini?" he called.

I turned back to face him.

"My brother may be stupid, irrational, and immature, and there may be a lot of rumors going on about his participation in the Muggle-born attacks given his public verbal assaults on your sister," he said, "but I have it on good authority that he really has nothing against Granger's blood status."

"Really?" I asked, taken aback. "And how do you know this?"

A mischievous grin spread across his face.

"He keeps a 'journal,'" he used two fingers to emphasis the quotations, "and it might have magically flown into my room while he was on the Quidditch pitch and fell open on my bed. It seems my dear brother has a secret obsession with the Head Girl but knows that nothing will ever come out of it due to many set backs including but not limited to: his girlfriend, his parents, me, Potter, Weasley, you, and Granger, herself, all of whom he is amusingly scared shiteless. In fact, he's even afraid of Weasley's younger sister, probably more than the rest of them."

I laughed openly at this. "Can't say I blame him."

"Hey, Zabini?" he asked. "Would you mind not telling anyone about this? While I have no shame in admitting that my brother is a coward, he's still my brother and I'm bound to family loyalty. I just didn't want him to be falsely accused of anything."

At this, I gained respect for the kid. "Sure, Paleman, his secret's safe with me."

"Thanks," he nodded.

"No, thank _you_," I replied. "Richard's lucky he has a brother like you."

He shrugged. "Not entirely." The grin returned to his face, causing me to chuckle.

I walked away and for a moment I forgot where I was headed. When I remembered, a renewed wave of anger washed over me, causing me to overenthusiastically tear through the entrance to the Slytherin common room. A group of girls sitting by the fire looked over at me with curious eyes, then turned back to each other and started whispering. I ignored them as I searched the room for a blond head.

He was in an armchair in a circle with Crabbe, Goyle, and two other girls. One of them, the stupid blonde who named her bag, was sitting on the arm of the chair, one hand resting on his chest, the other running through his hair. Her brunette friend sat next to her, with an uncomfortable expression on her face that clearly said she was only there out of loyalty and would rather be anywhere else than next to the two fat idiots who were currently ogling her.

Draco's face was carefully blank, so anyone who didn't know him would think he was playing the part of an aristocratic male chauvinist. What the blank face really meant was that Draco Malfoy's mind was currently not with us, and was instead focused on a particularly painful, stressful, or worrisome aspect of his life. Some of my anger deflated, at the sight of his face, because I knew that it meant he was at least conscious of the magnitude of the situation at hand.

"Draco, a word, please?"

He looked up at me and sighed as though he knew what was coming. The blonde, Vicky Whorebrook, or something, whined when Draco stood up and slid into the now-vacant armchair with a pout that I was sure was meant to be seductive. It really only made her look like a toddler begging for a bottle.

"You'll come back, won't you?" she asked.

I could tell Draco was fighting to keep his eyes from rolling when he answered. "Sorry, Vivian, but I'm not interested."

He ignored her shocked, indignant scoff and motioned for me to lead the way. We went down to the seventh year dormitories, cast the Muffliato charm on the room, and sat on the trunks at the end of opposite beds.

"She told you?" he guessed.

"Yes, and you're lucky I'm not hexing you to kingdome come," I replied. "Why'd you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be a bloody arse, Draco, you know what I mean," I said, annoyed. "How could you break up with her, especially after what we talked about?"

"I broke up with her especially _because_ of what we talked about."

"You lost me," I said."Do you love her, or not?"

"If love means that you would put someone's happiness before your own, would do anything to make sure that she's safe, and know that she deserves so much more than you can give her, then yes, I love her more than anything," he said, "and that's why we can't be together."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Reviews welcomed.**

**:)**


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